As Far As You Need
by sparozina
Summary: When his partner is hiding a devastating truth about her ordeal, those profiling skills come in handy. Post Orison, rape recovery story.
1. Chapter 1

He took her to his place. She never really stayed with him before, if, of course, you don't count all those times that he was missing. She spent the night on his couch a few times, but she never came for a sleep over when he was around.

He did stay with her, though, on more than one occasion. Her place was bigger, tidier, and as his doctor she liked to keep him close whenever he got himself drugged, injured or discharged from hospital against medical advice. Which happened to occur quite frequently.

This time her place was a wreck and her mother wasn't in town. She had the key of her mother's place, of course, but Mulder didn't want to leave her alone on a night like this. She didn't even need lots of convincing before accepting his offer. It felt like she was barely aware of his presence, like she retrieved to some distant, safe place in her mind, and she wouldn't even return his gaze anymore.

Mulder didn't like any of it. He already witnessed her falling apart because of Pfaster once, but this time it seemed worse, it seemed darker. This time he didn't even dare to force her to look at him, not trusting either of them to be strong enough to handle what he'd see in her eyes.

No, he was definitely not leaving her alone tonight.

Grateful that he even had a bed available for her, Mulder found clean sheets and changed them while she was in the shower. He took the dirty ones to the couch, though he highly doubted he would be getting any sleep tonight. He just hoped she would, while he stayed on guard and alert in case she needed anything.

Not knowing what else to do, Mulder turned on the TV and tried to follow a movie or whatever was on. His thoughts kept coming back to the events earlier in the night, though. The signs he missed. The intuition he ignored. Scully almost died at the hands of a lunatic again, and he hadn't done anything to prevent that. He arrived there just in time to witness her fend for herself. Alone.

He didn't do a damn thing for her, and now he still didn't know what to do for her. He'd write a report, witness in her favor, help her clean up her apartment, change the locks on her doors, but all that would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight it was just two of them and she wouldn't tell him what she needed. But he had to _something_.

Scully was still in the shower, for – Mulder looked at the clock – over an hour. He could hear the water insistently running, without a break. This couldn't be good. Alarmed, he got on his feet and rushed to the bathroom.

"Scully," he gently knocked on the door. "Is everything all right?"

No answer.

"Scully!" he insisted, louder this time. "Talk to me, Scully!"

The water stopped running and a second later Scully's voice answered him. "I'll be right there, Mulder."

He let out a sigh of relief. She was ok! He overreacted, as usual. Ashamed of invading her privacy, he turned to get back to the living room and give her space, but something stopped him. A realization. The way that she flinched when he touched her. The way that she hugged herself, as if trying to become even smaller and sink into herself, away from anything and anybody that could hurt her. The never-ending shower after she just had one back at her apartment.

Mulder felt a pain in his chest and he suddenly had trouble breathing. He wasn't alarmed though, since this feeling wasn't anything new and he was well accustomed to it.

The bathroom door finally opened behind him and he turned around to face her. The sight of her broke his heart. Her hair was wet, and wrapped only in his huge towel she looked smaller than ever. She tried to force herself to look at him, but failed miserably.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked accusingly. He cursed himself for being harsh with her, but he was so filled with rage that it clouded his judgement. He wasn't mad at her, of course, but he wanted to punch the wall, to break something, to kill the man, no, not the man – the monster – that was already dead. Seeing her like this erased any doubts he had about his sudden realization that he did, in fact, come to her apartment too late.

And nothing will ever be the same again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice filled with fear. "I was just having a shower and I lost the track of time. I'm sorry."

"You can't wash it off, Scully," his voice was calm, but it was a cold, deadly calmness that could kill in a cold blood, not her, but everything around her. "It's going to take time."

"I'm fine, Mulder," her voice was shaky but firm. It almost made him laugh. Her _I'm fine_ statement never sounded more bizarre and ridiculous than at this point.

"You can't even look at me, Scully," he stated the obvious and she hated him for it. "You are not fine. Get dressed, I'm taking you to a hospital."

"I am not going anywhere," she said firmly, clutching the towel and taking a step back, even though he didn't try to touch her or move in her direction.

"You are an officer of the law," he insisted. "You know you have to be checked."

"For what?" she finally managed to look him in the eyes, her awoken rage giving her the courage. She took another step back, standing her ground, and her gaze told him that he was a man and she hated him for it. Well, he hated himself just as much. "For evidence against a man that is already dead and can't be prosecuted? I'm not playing a 'victim blame' game, Mulder! I don't need the whole world to know what he did to me and blame me for it!"

"What about STDs?" Mulder insisted. "I know you can rule out pregnancy, but what about AIDS? Who knows what kind of diseases the creep had! And what kind of damage he'd done. You can't examine yourself to make sure you're really okay. You are a doctor, Scully, so you need to be reasonable about this!"

He felt physically sick saying those words, and to her of all people! But he was a law officer as well, he knew what had to be done.

Scully took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She wanted to disappear into the ground and never emerge to the surface again. Never face her partner again. But when she opened them again he was still there, and she was still there and there was no way around it.

"There is no damage, Mulder," she said quietly, looking through him as if he was a ghost. "That man was very meticulous and thorough, and he came well prepared. He used a… condom and lots of lubricant. And when he… when he holds the knife to your throat… you don't even fight. It doesn't even hurt. It's just… so slow and… careful… and it takes forever… And he makes sure that… that… that your body listens to him instead of you…"

She didn't even notice that she started to talk about her experience in the second person. She didn't notice that she closed her eyes and that tears were freely falling. Her mind took her back to her cold bathroom floor, lying stiff and still with his hands all over her, her core invaded and her body betraying her. He looked her straight in the eyes as he moved on top of her, and she held his gaze, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her tears or hearing her beg for mercy. She stared into the eyes of pure evil, closing hers just for second and never again, since behind the closed lids all those feelings in her body intensified and somehow felt more real, less deniable. She spat into his face, sending her soul away, hiding it somewhere that he couldn't reach, that he couldn't touch, a place so remote that she didn't know if even she herself would ever be able to find it again.

"My god, Scully," Mulder's broken voice brought her back to the present. "I'm so sorry…"

She shook her head and quickly wiped away the tears. She couldn't do this. She couldn't handle his pity, his sympathy. She didn't want Mulder to know, him of all people. But now it was too late. He got it out of her. Of course he would.

Now things could never be the same.

Bracing herself for his intervention, she rushed to his bedroom and started to dig up through her overnight bag, looking for something to wear.

"I have to go," she informed Mulder, not even noticing that the towel fell off of her body. Mulder noticed, but his mind wasn't working fast enough to remind him that he shouldn't look, so he did. He looked for cuts, bruises, anything to make sure she really wasn't hurt that badly. Physically, that is.

"Where?" he asked when she started putting her clothes on.

"Anywhere," she responded in a hurry. "I don't care. I need to be alone."

"Then stay here," he suggested. "And I'll go."

"Where?" It was her time to ask. She stopped with the dressing and looked at him, feeling tired, confused and incredibly lonely.

"To my car," Mulder shrugged. "A motel? Bellefleur? Europe? As far as you need me to go."

"Okay," she whispered. Her strength left her and she dropped on the floor, resting her back against Mulder's bed. She couldn't stop her legs from shaking and her tears from falling again, while her whole body shivered from the coldness of her bathroom tiles that was deeply absorbed by every single cell in her body, and the invasion that no amount of water and soap managed to wash away.

"Okay," Mulder repeated. He hated leaving her like this, but he had to respect her wishes. He couldn't risk estranging her, not now, so until he came up with a better plan he would play along with hers. "Call me if you need anything."

"Yeah," she whispered and he finally left. He didn't get farther then the building hall in front of his apartment, but she didn't know that. To her he felt farther than Europe, farther than space, in a boy's club that she no longer belonged to, in a world that ceased to exist for her.

She was totally, utterly alone, and there was no way out for her.

Mulder's dirty t-shirt lay on the floor next to her, and she absent-mindedly picked it up and brought it to her face. His smell gave her just enough comfort to prevent her from completely losing her mind. Clutching the smelly piece of cloth tightly to her chest, she climbed on the bed and cried herself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

With a heavy sigh, Mulder sat on the floor across the entrance of his apartment, resting his back on the wall and fixating his gaze to the numbers 42.

She didn't tell him to go to Europe, so he hoped this was far enough. He wouldn't sleep. He would just sit here and make sure no one comes close to her. He would keep her safe. He wouldn't fail her again.

Who was he kidding? He was no good for her. He buried his face in his shaky hands, trying to get rid of the pictures in his mind brought on by her confessions. It didn't work. The pictures kept multiplying, determined to drive him crazy. Where was he to prevent this? Where the hell was he?!

He left the gun inside, cursing himself for such a trivial mistake. He couldn't disturb her to go get it. Though if he had it with him, he might end up putting it in his mouth and swallowing the bullet. He certainly didn't deserve such an easy out, but other than that he probably didn't even need the gun. If anybody tried to get to Scully, he would kill him with his bare hands. He had enough boiling rage inside him to give him strength for it. Scully was safe now.

But now was too late.

Annoyed and enraged, Mulder stood up and met the wall with his fist. Again. And again. It didn't bring him any relief so he stopped, noticing blood on the assaulted wall. He shouldn't make so much noise. The last thing he needed was for his neighbors to wake up and start investigating. He didn't want to wake Scully either, assuming that she fell asleep at all. He hoped that she did. She needed sleep, she needed rest, and she needed to get through this, whole and unscarred.

Too restless to sit down again, Mulder started pacing up and down the corridor. Bad memories started resurfacing, memories like infected bees and Padget's stories. This hall has seen some of Mulder's most terrifying moments, and yet he was still here, living in the same apartment, testing his luck over and over again. He could move out, but all that would follow him. Mulder knew very well that demons live inside you, and another apartment wouldn't bring him any more peace. It would to his current neighbors though.

A muffled scream brought him back to the present moment. It definitely came from his apartment. He rushed to it, hearing Scully call out his name. "Mulder! I need your help! Mulder!"

He was ready to kick the door down, but then he remembered that she didn't lock it behind him. She probably didn't have a sense of mind to do it, after all he did leave her crying on the floor. Oh Scully!

He went in and approached the bedroom. Scully was yelling in her sleep, pushing and kicking at invisible attacker.

"Mulder!" she cried and he rushed to her, turning the lamp on the bedside table. She was covered in sweat, her face contorted in pain.

"Mulder!"

"I'm here, Scully," he tried to tell her. "Wake up, it's all right, I'm here."

But she didn't hear him. The nightmares had her trapped in a firm grip and she wasn't waking up.

"Wake up!" Mulder tried louder this time. He grabbed her arm with one hand, placed another on the back of her neck and pulled her in a sitting position.

"No!" she screamed and started struggling against him. He released her immediately, but she wouldn't calm down. She started hitting him with her fists, on the chest, on the stomach, and he just let her. He would be her punching bag if that's what she needed. Whatever she needed.

"Get away from me, you bastard!" she screamed, releasing all the rage that she suppressed during Pfaster's assault of her. She kicked and pushed now, for all the agonizing moments that she lay still and numb, with a knife pressed to her throat and the devil pressed to her groin.

"Scully, it's me," Mulder kept trying to remind her, but his words didn't register. She was obsessed, her dam broke and she wasn't able to think clearly. She wasn't able to think at all.

Mulder was grateful that she at least didn't have a gun.

"Get off of me! Get the fuck off of me, you son of a bitch!" Scully didn't stop until she pushed him off the bed and he landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Mulder moaned painfully, trying to catch his breath.

"Mulder?" his Scully was finally fully awake again, now looking confused and terrified. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I'm okay," he tried to assure her, wincing as he attempted to get up. Scully quickly got off the bed and kneeled next to him, offering her hand. He took it, and with her help raised just enough to be able to pull her into a fierce hug.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head into his shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered to her. "I'm okay. And you're okay. It's okay."

"I'm not," she admitted, crying in his embrace and he held her tighter, afraid that if he lets go she would break up in thousand pieces. He desperately tried to keep her together, in this one little piece that meant the world to him.

"It's okay," he repeated, gently rocking with her. "I'm here. We'll get through this."

"I… I can't… I can't…" she sobbed harder and harder, and they both feared she would never stop.

"I've got you," Mulder assured her. "You are safe now. We'll get through this."

"Don't leave me," she begged him and he repeated: "I'm here."

He damn well wasn't going to "Europe" again any time soon!

"No!" she suddenly pulled away, looking petrified. "You can't be here! You can't see me like this!"

"Scully," he sighed. Her armor had an amazing ability to rapidly rebuild itself in any situation.

"I didn't want you to know!" she cried miserably, trying to get up, but her legs wouldn't cooperate. She tried to use her hands to back herself up, but that didn't work either. She brought them up and stared at them, willing them to stop their violent shaking.

"I can't breathe," she gasped, still staring at her hands. Mulder grabbed them to steady them and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Breathe in," he instructed her. "Slowly. That's it. Now breathe out… You got it! It's okay."

She felt silly and humiliated by this, but Mulder's touch grounded her, his voice calmed her and his body felt like a hard rock that she could lean onto and survive the night.

With their heads joined at the temples their breaths mixed, and they were both panting.

"Let me be the strong one for a change," Mulder pleaded. "Just for tonight. Cry yourself to sleep while I watch over you and protect you. As a partner. As a friend. Let it all out. Just for tonight. And we will never mention it again."

"Just for tonight?" she wanted to clarify, considering his suggestion.

"Just for tonight," he confirmed.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Okay," he whispered back.

"Then hold me," she requested, and he readily welcomed her into another embrace. He held her and stroked her and rocked with her and cried with her… It took forever, but she finally fell asleep in his arms.

Gently, careful not to stir her demons again, Mulder picked Scully up, placed her on the bed and tucked her in. He left her for a second, just to pull up a chair, and then he sat by the bed in silence, awake and alert, keeping her safe. For as long as she'd let him.


	3. Chapter 3

As determined as Mulder was to sit by the bed through the rest of the night, he quickly became restless and needed something to do. Looking around the room, he spotted the adult magazine on the night's stand and he froze in terror.

Scully knew about his… means of recreation. She never seemed to mind, in fact she liked to tease him about it.

But that was before.

He had to get rid of it immediately. His heart was racing as he quietly searched the apartment. He found a box and filled it with his cherished and valuable collections of magazines and tapes. Mulder felt dirty and disgusted with himself, and he wanted all that stuff out of there. Now!

The box was heavy and he was sweating as he took it out of his apartment. He started walking to the elevator, but realized Scully was alone and he needed to be there if she woke up. But she couldn't wake up to… this!

Mulder contemplated for a moment, then he remembered his neighbor Joel who would certainly appreciate a collection like his. Without a second thought he walked down the hall, placed the box in front of Joel's apartment, knocked twice and hurried back to his place, not waiting for an answer. He hated leaving everything to Joel, but he hated having that material around Scully much more.

After checking up on his partner and making sure that she was still sleeping soundly, he went to the bathroom and kneeled in front of the toilet, suddenly nauseated. He kept picturing Scully in Pfaster's hands, in all the positions he ever saw on his tapes.

Except that those women liked what was done to them.

Or did they just pretend? They might have even been forced to do it, because of poverty, abusive partners or blackmails. Maybe. Possibly. And to him, that was a pleasure to watch!

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

He heaved violently, but not much came out. Just a little bile and a lot of his broken soul. Not much indeed.

He wasn't like that, he tried to assure himself. He could count all the women he'd ever slept with on the fingers of one hand! They all said yes. They always said yes. Or implied it, at least. Yes, yes, yes, yes.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Nooooo!

He sobbed miserably, crawling away from the toilet after giving it an awkward kick. The toilet didn't kick back, as if it could see that the man was already down and defeated.

Scully. He thought about… her. Like… that. So often in fact that there was no way around it. No denying it. No redemption.

Sometimes he imagined sticking his tongue – or something else - into her mouth, just to shut her up. He pictured bending her over the desk – _his_ desk – and exploring the sweet, forbidden territory, thoroughly marking it with his essence, for all the Bureau to know who she belonged to. Or pulling her on his lap during the boring stakeouts and making sure that, just once, she didn't fall asleep in the car.

Not that he'd do any of it to her, not like that. It was just a fantasy, a quick fix. If he ever got a chance he would love her, cherish her, make sure it was more than good for her. She deserved nothing less. He would never hurt her.

Would he?

What if someone like Pusher told him to? What if someone drugged him? What if he got obsessed with some sort of demon or entity that he frequently encountered in his line of work? Killers were not born killers. Rapists neither. Pfaster used to desecrate corpses before he discovered that fresh bodies are more satisfying. It was probably just a matter of time before he'd decide to treat himself with a living flesh. Scully was his first, but she probably wouldn't have been his last, if she hadn't made that decision for him.

Once though, Donnie Pfaster was a regular and honorable member of society, a loving son and a brother, just another normal boy next door. The same as Mulder once was.

We are never really safe from evil, but we are never completely immune to it, either. A good profiler is always aware of that.

With a groan, Mulder returned to his toilet, hugging it once more. His stomach rolled painfully, but nothing came out, nothing at all this time.

He would never touch a woman again, he decided, sickened by a mere thought of it. Any woman. He would never even touch himself again.

Mulder felt dizzy when he finally got up from the floor. He flushed the toilet and stared at the mirror. Everything was different, but somehow he still looked the same. The world hadn't stopped turning, and the new day was about to begin. He had to pull himself together. For Scully. He had to be strong for her.

First of all, he had to get Pfaster out of his head. The body still hadn't cooled, but the man was dead, all right. Mulder's job was over. He hadn't figured him out on time, and now there was nothing left to figure out. Case closed. Next please!

Mulder undressed and stepped in the bathtub. The shower didn't do much good to Scully, but maybe it would help him. The warm water soothed him and angered him at the same time. He didn't know why and he didn't care. Above all, he was tired. Tired of society that keeps treating women like objects. Tired of society that keeps bringing out the worst in men.

In a few minutes he was back on the chair beside the bed, clean on the outside, but Donnie Pfaster still filled his mind. As much as he still filled Scully's body.

There just wasn't a way out in sight for either of them.


	4. Chapter 4

Mulder was a light sleeper, but the night was rough and he was exhausted. As determined as he was to stay alert, sleep sneaked up on him and enveloped him in a merciful oblivion.

If Scully had another nightmare, he would have been wide awake in an instant, but coincidence or not, she slept much better now that he was around.

He would have heard her if she had a nightmare, but he didn't hear her getting up. A feeling of panic overwhelmed him when he opened his eyes and she wasn't in the bed, but it lasted only for a second before he became aware of the sound of running water and sighed in relief.

She was in the shower. Breathe, Mulder, breathe. She was just taking a shower.

Again?

How long has she been in there, Mulder wondered. Minutes, hours? He was worried, but decided to give her space. What could he do in the meantime? What does a good host do for his unexpected guest?

Feed her, he decided. But what? He didn't have a habit of eating breakfast, so what could he offer her? He didn't keep any tofu, yogurt or bee pollen.

Browsing through the fridge sparsely loaded with nothing useful, Mulder remembered home-made blueberry muffins that his mother brought him on one of her rare visits. She didn't make them, of course, she got them from an overly friendly neighbor and decided to stuff her son's freezer with them.

Her son hated blueberries in muffins, but he didn't have a heart to tell her. Not that it would make a difference, since she would forget it anyway, like she always did.

Samantha loved blueberry muffins. That was something neither of them would ever forget.

Mulder opened the freezer, took out a couple of frozen pastries and put them in a microwave. He watched them warming up and coming back to life, whishing it could be done so easily with people. If only he could put his mother in a microwave… Or Scully. Or himself.

After the muffins were ready, he went to check on his partner. The water was still running, but he heard no movement from the bathroom. He gently knocked once, then again more fiercely, repeatedly calling her name, but there was no answer.

"Scully, I'm coming in!" he informed her, and when even that didn't get him a response he carefully pushed the door, relieved to find out that she didn't lock herself in.

"Scully?" he peaked inside, then stepped in. He could see her silhouette, sitting or kneeling in the bath tub, behind the curtains. She didn't move and she didn't answer.

Mulder's heart was racing with fear and worry as he pulled the curtains and revealed his partner sitting in a fetal position under the cold stream of water. He quickly turned off the shower and wrapped her in a towel, gently moving wet hair away from her face, trying to make an eye contact, though _any_ contact would do at this point.

"Jesus, Scully," he pleaded, kneeling on the floor to get to her level. "You're freezing. You need to get out of there!"

"Mulder?" she finally raised her eyes to him, looking confused, as if she wasn't fully aware of what was happening. Or aware at all.

Feeling dizzy from relief that washed over him when he heard her speak, Mulder sat down with a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment to pull himself together and he felt her cold fingers gently brush his skin around the bruise on his forehead.

"Did I do that?" she asked him when he opened his eyes.

He didn't know and he didn't care.

"Scully, you're breaking a promise," he gently warned her, taking her cold hand in his warm one. "Last night didn't happen, remember?"

"Thank you," she nodded sadly and he pressed his lips to her fingers, staying there a bit longer than he planned to since she didn't pull away or show any sign of discomfort with his gesture.

"Get out of there and dry yourself off," he urged her, finally finding enough strength to get up himself. "I'll make you a coffee. Or do you want tea?"

"Yeah," she nodded, and since he wasn't sure what it meant he went to make both.

As he waited for the water to boil, Mulder dreaded the sound of the shower, but he didn't hear it again. All he heard was Scully getting around, probably getting dressed, so he allowed himself to relax enough to start breathing again.

Scully came to the kitchen wearing his bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her hair. He handed her a cup of tea and guided her to the chair, placing the plate with muffins in front of her. He pulled another chair for himself and sat at the table as well, staring at his cup of coffee.

"How long were you in there?" he asked the coffee.

"I don't know," Scully said to the muffins. "I remember getting in the shower, but after that… My memory is all fuzzy. I didn't register the water turning cold, or you coming in. I don't know what happened."

"You're in shock," Mulder informed the coffee. "It's just a defense mechanism."

"I just want it to be over," Scully demanded, pulling out the raisins from a muffing without eating it. "How do I stop it, Mulder? When will I stop feeling him… inside me?"

Blueberries didn't know. Coffee neither. Mulder had some idea, but he didn't like it. Not a bit.

"I wish I could tell you soon," he sighed. "I wish I could tell you ever. But we both know it's not that easy. Things like that scar you for life. It haunts you in your dreams, it haunts you in the daylight… There's nowhere you go, nothing you can do to escape it…"

"If you are trying to make me feel better, Mulder, feel free to stop because you are doing a lousy job." She couldn't find any more raisins in the abused muffin, so she was just arranging those that she salvaged.

"I'm not trying to make you feel better," Mulder raised his head at the same time as she did and watched her thoughtfully. "I'm trying to be honest. I need you to know the bad things, so that you would believe me when I get to the good part."

"Which is what?" she stared at him, not backing away from his gaze.

"You are stronger than this," he said gently. "It won't be easy, but you'll pull through, stronger than before."

"How do you know?" she desperately wanted to believe him, but she was never easy to convince.

"Because I won't let you fail," he said simply and she had to lower her head again since her eyes started to fill with tears.

"Who puts raisins in blueberry muffins?" she tried to change the subject, nervously pushing the plate away from her. Mulder simultaneously pushed his cup of coffee. He wanted to tell her that she should eat, but the mere thought of food made him nauseated. He imagined it wasn't much different for her.

"Scully," he said to empty spot that was occupied by coffee just seconds ago. "If we are going to keep this between us, you'll have to let me help you."

"How?" her voice was squeaky and it disgusted her.

"Stay here," he suggested. "For a few days at least. You shouldn't be alone."

"Why?" she challenged him. "You think I might hurt myself?"

He didn't answer.

"Mulder, I'm fine!" Scully insisted.

"It's that bad, ha?" Mulder wasn't convinced.

At that moment she lost it. She burst into tears so suddenly and unexpectedly that she didn't even have the time to try and stop the outburst. Mulder was making it real. She wanted to let go and drown, but he kept holding her above the surface, forcing her to breathe.

It hurt to breath. It hurt so much that she didn't feel it was worthy at all.

Mulder got up and went to stand next to her, side by side, but facing the opposite direction. He placed his hand on her shoulder, slowly rubbing it, not knowing what else to do.

Once, what seemed like a lifetime ago, her sister showed him that all he had to do was be with her. Just be there and hold her hand until she found her way again. When everybody else gave up on her, he could still feel her will to live. She couldn't react and respond, but he could feel her close.

It was different now. Now she could respond, but she wasn't really there, and his efforts to bring her back only seemed to hurt her. But he had to bring her back. He couldn't risk her going to that place where both of his parents went after Samantha disappeared and he never managed to bring back either of them. They were alive, but they weren't living. It was a place without a return ticket, a dead end and he couldn't lose Scully to it as well. He had to keep her here, no matter how much it hurt. And if he couldn't do that, he would just go there with her.

"Go back to bed," he told her when her sobbing slowed down.

"I have to work!" she cried.

"You have to rest," he said calmly, but firmly.

"Mulder, you don't understand," Scully insisted. "I _need_ to work!"

"You will," he assured her. "But not today. You are not up for it and it wouldn't help."

"But Skinner…"

"...would tell you the same."

He left her for a second and came back with two pills.

"Take this," he offered. "Sleeping pills."

"What kind?" Scully took them, eyeing them suspiciously.

"The kind you prescribed me," Mulder shrugged. "The kind that prevents you from dreaming."

Scully nodded and obediently swallowed them with her tea. Mulder sat down, waiting for her, but she showed no signs that she was ready to go to bed any time soon. If she expected him to carry her, sure, it made no difference to him. There was no need to rush her.

"It's not working," she complained.

"It will," he assured her. "Don't even think about asking for more."

She didn't bother to try and convince him that it hadn't crossed her mind.

"I knew you would come," she admitted. "I just wish you came sooner. Or later."

But not in that moment. Not after the devil untied her wrists from her bathroom radiator and started to take off her clothes, while running her a bath. She wasn't going to fight him, she just wanted it to be over.

At first she thought she heard wrong, believing that she only imagined Mulder's voice. But Pfaster dropped her limp body and went to investigate, leaving her half-naked on the floor.

Mulder! He was going after Mulder! The rage awoke inside her and she found just enough strength to get up, pull up her pants and grab her gun. She was going to let him finish her, but she wouldn't let him endanger Mulder.

And then everything happened at the same time and she couldn't make a distinction between past and present. Pfaster flushing the used condom down her toilet. Mulder telling her to breathe. Police all over her apartment. The bullet from her gun bringing the devil down fast and easy, as if he was a mere mortal.

"I knew you'd like it, girly girl."

"You didn't have a choice."

"Can we take your statement, Miss Scully?"

"Breathe in! You got it! Just breathe."

"Miss Scully?"

"I'm just going to take a shower, if we are done here."

"I wish I came sooner, too," Mulder told her now, in the future. Pfaster was still her present, and the future was going on without her. "But not later."

Later was not an option. Never later. He couldn't go on without her.

"I'm feeling dizzy, Mulder."

"It's the pills. You need to lay down."

He walked her to his bed, half carrying her, so strong and so real.

"Are you really here?" she wondered.

"I'm here," he confirmed, laying her down.

"I'm not," she mumbled, half asleep. "Where am I, Mulder?"

"You are with me," he assured her, taking the towel from her hair and covering her with a blanket. "You are safe. Go to sleep now."

"Will you be here when I wake up?" She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, but she was still fighting it, scared to let go.

"I'll be here," Mulder promised, stroking her hair.

"Mmm, ok," she struggled to speak. "You are a… good friend… Mulder… I love you… so much…"

He smiled, watching the sleep winning over her. She looked so peaceful and innocent and his soul fed on the sight of her.

"I love you too," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I love you too."


	5. Chapter 5

Great! He drugged his partner into oblivious sleep after donating all his tapes and magazines to a horny neighbor. He may be the guy who believes almost anything, but if someone told him yesterday how this day would start, there's no way in hell he'd even consider it. What was he supposed to do now?

Mulder wasn't used to having a woman in his bed. It's been a long time since that happened, but he was pretty sure this wasn't the right way to get one. He couldn't help her and he didn't even manage to feed her. She was clean all right, but she felt dirty, so it didn't really count.

He figured he could at least keep her warm, so he took an extra blanket from the couch and covered her with that one too, just in case. Two minutes later he took it off of her again, afraid that she could be too hot.

Then he paced back and forth through his living room.

He was restless.

Trying to think, he sat on the couch and buried his head in his hands.

"Oh Scully, what am I supposed to do?" he sighed miserably. "How do I fix this?"

Whenever he had a problem, he asked Scully for help. He usually wouldn't follow her advice, but just talking to her, just being heard, just having someone to listen, really listen and care… It was enough. It was all he needed.

He talked to her even when she wasn't around, even when he couldn't call her, which was rare since he didn't have much respect for her personal time, vacations or night time.

Once, when they were separated for the first time, after the X files were closed, he tried to move on without her. He tried to convince himself that he could do it alone, even that he could give it up all together and that she would be better off without him. Scully refused to accept that. She stayed with him through so much that he didn't know how to survive without her anymore. If he kept bothering her for every silly reason or no reason at all, whether it was a day or night, appropriate or not, it wasn't to control her or dominate her life. No, it was to make sure she was still there, that she still cared and that last year or two or five or, now, already seven weren't just a dream. He needed to make sure she was real, every second of every day.

Thinking of that, he got up and went to check on her, relieved to find her where he left her, peacefully sleeping in his bed.

Seven years. Seven years and he still wasn't used to not being all alone. It still felt out of this world, unreachable, a precious gift that he didn't, and never could deserve.

He carefully closed the bedroom door and returned to his couch.

Mrs. Scully would know what to do, Mulder realized. But he couldn't call her, not without Scully's permission at least and he wasn't sure if he had one. Not that he was eager to give that nice woman heartbreaking news… Again.

If only Melissa was still alive… Or… Samantha... Or, damn it, even Diana would do! Only a woman would have some idea what another woman would need after… After…

His thoughts were threatening to go to dark places again, so he had to stop thinking. He grabbed the phone and dialed nervously, having no idea what he was going to say, if she even picked up.

She did.

"Hi mom," he greeted.

"Fox? Is that you?" a sleepy voice answered. As if she had another son or as if she still had a daughter. Who else would call her _mom_?

"Yes, mom, it's me," Mulder confirmed anyway.

"What's wrong?" she sounded sleepy and irritated. Mulder chuckled, realizing that everybody just assumed something was wrong whenever he was calling. His chuckle almost turned into a sob. He was exhausted and he didn't know what to say. He needed his mom, but he didn't know how to tell her that.

"Do you know what time it is?" Teena scolded him. "If there is no emergency, couldn't you have waited for a more appropriate time of day to give me a call? Or do you simply enjoy waking me up? Where are your manners, Fox?"

"I… I'm sorry mom," Mulder sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's always good to hear from you," she said a little softer. "But you know how much I need my sleep."

"Yes. Yes, of course," he confirmed, even though he really didn't know.

"Good," Teena was pleased. "Take care, Fox."

"You too, mom," he said sheepishly, wondering if she even heard him before hanging up.

So, that didn't do much good. He wondered if he should try calling Skinner now, or was he also still in bed? Mulder didn't even know what time it was. He looked through the window and guessed morning, then he looked at his phone again, realizing it was ringing.

He smiled when he saw who was calling. Talking about a wolf!

"Mulder," he answered quickly, afraid it might wake Scully if he left it ringing.

"Where is she?" Skinner barked without greeting.

"Good morning to you, too, sir," Mulder sighed, trying to stall until he finds out how much Skinner already knows and until he decides how much more he _should_ know.

"I'm at her place," Skinner informed him. "This looks like a war zone, but it's been cleared. She can come back now, but I can't reach her on her phone to tell her."

"It must have gotten broken," Mulder guessed. "The phone," he thought to clarify.

"Right," Skinner sounded suspicious. "I'm going to my office now. When can I expect you two?"

"Um, I was thinking, now would be a good time to use some of those annoying vacation days that I never asked for…"

"Now?" Skinner was surprised.

"Yeah, why not? It's a nice day and all…" Mulder said, having the real conversation with his boss between the lines.

"Ok," Skinner agreed, understanding. "I'm giving you both a week off, and if you need more it can be arranged. Just e-mail me your report by the end of the day."

"Yes, sir."

"How is she, Mulder?" Skinner asked carefully, as Mulder knew he would, but he didn't have a response ready.

"She's been better," he finally decided. It was as much as he was willing to say.

"Can I talk to her?"

"I'm sorry, sir, now is not a good time," Mulder refused.

"Ok," Skinner understood. "Call me if you need anything. Off the record, any time."

"Thank you, sir."

"I mean it, Mulder," Skinner insisted. "Anything at all."

"I know, sir."

"And Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of her."

"Yeah… Yeah, I will."

As soon as Skinner hung up, Mulder wanted to dial his number and keep talking to him, just to escape the deadly silence in his living room. He desperately wanted to go to work, but he promised Scully he would be there when she woke up and that was a promise he had to keep. She was holding by a thread and he didn't dare to leave her alone.

It was bad enough the first time, and that was nothing compared to this.

The first time that she cried in his arms, first time that she couldn't look him in the eyes… She just fell apart and wrapped her arms around him as if holding for dear life. He'd had no choice but to catch her, confused and embarrassed, but his heart had been racing just as fast as hers was.

She had sobbed so hard and loudly as if she was never going to stop. It had been so unexpected, unprofessional and overwhelming.

"It's all right," Mulder had whispered to her, closing his eyes for a moment to escape curious gazes of other officers. He'd felt like fainting for a second, but he'd pulled himself together and straightened up, holding his partner even tighter and sending away anybody that offered help.

She had said she didn't need help and so he didn't want it either. He had everything he needed, and even though she was falling apart he was damn proud of her. For surviving. For fending for herself. For existing.

"Oh god, Mulder, I'm so sorry," she had said after an eternity, looking at his chest bathed in her tears.

"Don't apologize," he'd told her gently, but firmly, guiding her to the car. Back in the motel he got a room for her, but hadn't bothered to use it. His room had a couch which he'd been more than used to sleeping on.

He wasn't leaving her alone that night and she hadn't protested.

She hadn't spent the night in his room. No, that would've been wrong and unprofessional. He'd simply offered her to shower while he ordered dinner, so that they could go over the case together. They were partners, it was their job.

And when she had curled into a ball on his bed and fell into an uneasy sleep, he had covered her with a blanket and worked by himself. For the whole ten minutes, before the sleep won him too. It had been just a short nap that accidentally happened to last until morning. It wasn't like they shared a room, no, nothing like that. They'd just… fallen asleep in the line of duty. Nothing more.

She had woken up feeling herself again and that was all that mattered. The rest was nobody else's business.

Mulder was afraid that this time it wouldn't be that easy. This time she's been violated by the same man, but in so much more unspeakable ways.

This time, he feared she wouldn't go back to being herself as quickly, if ever.

He could still smell her blood and her fear as he approached her. The neighbors had started gathering and he'd warned them not to come in but to call the police, while he'd rushed to his partner.

She'd been fighting for breath. He'd never seen her like that and it'd scared him. He'd had to sit her down and teach her how to breathe, slowly, deeply, in and out, and she only got it after what had seemed like an eternity and the last moment before the hell took her completely. And hell was where she'd seemed to be.

"You had no choice," he'd tried to assure her, while wiping the blood from under her nose with his sleeve. It'd reminded him of the cancer so he couldn't bear to watch it. He'd had to get every last drop off of her.

He'd wanted to hug her, but he'd noticed pieces of broken glass on her clothes, so he hadn't dared. There'd been nothing to do but sit with her, hold her hand and wait for the police.

How had he not noticed really how bad she'd been, Mulder wondered now. If he had known, he would have killed Pfaster all over again.

He went to check on Scully again, for the thousandth time. She was still sleeping, still breathing, and that was all he could hope for, for now.

Then he returned to the living room, fed the fish and started making phone calls. He ordered new cell phone for Scully, and a cleaning agency to tidy up her apartment. He tried to write a report that he promised to Skinner, but he struggled with the words, with the recent memories, with feelings of guilt and rage…

Time was passing slowly and lazily, but it was passing, and Scully was not waking up. Maybe giving her the same dose of sleeping pills that he used wasn't such a good idea.

Finally, he decided to try to wake her. He entered the bedroom and approached the bed, sat on it and watched her sleep. Just for a moment. His hand went to her cheek to remove the strand of hair and he called her name.

"Scully?"

There was no response. She didn't even move.

"Scully!" he tried louder. "It's dinner time and you haven't eaten the whole day. What do you want me to order?"

"Mmmm…" was her only response, as she turned to the other side, not really waking up.

"Ok," Mulder sighed. It didn't really matter. He knew what kind of pizza she liked, and if it didn't please her he could always order again.

Maybe soup, he wondered as he waited for the delivery. Sick people usually get soup. But Scully wasn't sick. Was she?

He really didn't enjoy this role switch that put him in charge of a doctor for a change.

It took a while, but pizza arrived and Scully still refused to get up. Not knowing what else to do, Mulder placed the whole box on the night stand, hoping the delicious smell would wake her up. Or her appetite at least.

He took a slice and bit into it greedily. Aside from a ton of sunflower seeds, he also didn't eat anything for the whole day.

"You have to try this," he informed Scully, but she kept ignoring him. He had to get this pizza in her mouth before it all disappeared in his own, but how?

How about, just put it in there? Literary.

Curious, Mulder took a small piece of mushroom and brushed Scully's lips with it. To his surprise she opened her mouth, just slightly, but enough for him push the food inside. For a moment he started to panic that it would choke her, but she begun to chew instead.

Pleased with the result, he tried with a piece of cheese next. Then a piece of crust. It all went down smoothly, even if she still wasn't opening her eyes.

"Mulder," Scully finally stirred, pulling herself in a more sitting position with difficulty. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding you," Mulder stated the obvious. When he prepared the next bite and turned to give it to her, he was met with her wide open, skeptical eyes.

"Hi," he smiled with a pure joy, until the pain in her eyes sobered him up.

He froze, feeling awkward. Should he apologize? Leave her alone? Let the aliens take him and disappear from the face of the Earth?

He waited for the hint from her while she watched him, seemingly as lost and confused as he was.

Nothing happened for a few long moments, but then slowly and without a word, Scully opened her mouth and Mulder reluctantly placed the bite in it.

His offer was accepted. His life would be spared.

More importantly, his partner was eating. She kept staring at him with such intensity that it gave him chills, but he tried to keep her gaze and focus on feeding her, ignoring the awkwardness of their position. After all, she would do the same for him. She _had_ done much more for him.

Silently, they finished the whole pizza. She ate so much of it that Mulder still felt hungry, but he couldn't care less.

"What time is it?" Scully asked, not taking her eyes off of him, not even to glance at the alarm clock right next to her.

"Eight thirty," Mulder informed her.

"We are late for work!" Scully started to panic.

"In the evening," Mulder clarified.

"Oh," Scully looked confused. And… Was it disappointment?

"Skinner gave us a week off," Mulder told her. "You don't have to worry about work."

Scully's eyes filled with tears when she heard that.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" her voice broke and with it she broke the eye contact, feeling embarrassed.

Mulder didn't know what to tell her. He didn't know what to do either.

"You don't understand," Scully shook her head in annoyance. "If I don't go to the office today… I don't know if I ever will."

"You will," Mulder tried to assure her.

"You can't know that," Scully objected.

"No," he agreed. "But I know you. You won't let him win."

"Damn it, Mulder, he already won!" she was becoming really annoyed with his empty words. Everything was empty and meaningless, not just around her but inside her as well. Especially inside her.

"That's not how it looks from where I'm standing," Mulder remained calm. "And I won't let it end like that. You know I won't."

"What the hell do you know?" Scully yelled at him. She wanted to get out of the bed and get away from him, but she was too dizzy. Damn pills! "What the hell do you want from me?"

Mulder took a time to think about that question. He didn't know what to say. He just wanted her to be all right, but he couldn't tell her that. It was too early for that and not even a super woman like his partner could heal that fast. Her mood swings were exhausting and he could see they were scaring her. She must have felt out of control, and Scully relied on having everything under control. He wondered how to help her get back what she lost.

"I want to hug you," he finally decided, not coming up with a better idea. "May I?"

"Are you really asking me that?" she didn't know whether to kiss him or kill him. "Do you really think I'm afraid of you?"

"No, I don't think that," Mulder sighed. "I just think it needs to be your choice."

"And if I say no?" Scully wondered.

"Then I won't touch you," Mulder promised. "Until you change your mind," he added with a smile.

Scully just stared at him, trying to figure him out.

"May I hug you, Scully?" Mulder asked again.

"No," she said carefully. She wanted a hug, but decided to say no anyway, just to see what would happen, how it would feel.

"Ok," Mulder nodded. He didn't look angry, or disappointed. He looked just as supporting as ever.

"Thank you," she said just a moment before bursting into tears. She was suddenly afraid of losing him, realizing that she wouldn't know what to do without him. She desperately needed him and just as desperately feared needing anybody. She needed him to be there for her, but she also needed to do everything by herself. She needed Mulder to know what happened to her, but she just as much needed to spare him that.

"Do you want me to leave?" she heard him asking.

"No," she said through tears. "Stay. Please."

And just to make sure he really stayed, she reached with her hand towards him and he met her half way, barely suppressing his own tears. Firmly holding Mulder's hand, Scully started to sob harder, but he didn't try to come closer. He stayed at the distance that she had chosen, letting her be in control, letting her be strong and vulnerable at the same time, as much as she was willing and ready to be.


	6. Chapter 6

The night was rough and neither of them was getting much sleep.

Mulder was lying on the couch, listening to Scully quietly crying, but he wasn't going to her. There wasn't anything he could do, and if she needed him she knew where to find him. The television was on, loud enough for her to hear it, so she must've known he was awake.

If she had another nightmare, if he heard her screaming, he would be there in an instant. He listened carefully for any alarming sounds, but so far she was just crying, obviously trying not to be heard and he didn't want to intrude.

He was giving her space.

Scully's world was shattered right now and the pain wasn't something she could skip, or even postpone. She had to go through it, and it was a journey a person has to do alone.

All Mulder could do was to be there and try to keep her safe, but he could merely hope to protect her from outside threats. There wasn't anything he could do against her inner demons.

"I'm here, Scully," he whispered, because he had to talk to her even while he was trying to give her space. She couldn't hear him, but he was hoping she could sense him. He didn't have much strength left in him, but all he had was for her. Everything he had was hers.

Scully got up when he dozed off. She stood in the doorway, watching him sleep. She didn't dare to wake him, and she couldn't bear going back to bed. Stuck in between, she tried not to cry as she watched her partner sleep peacefully, bathed in aquarium and television light. She hated being a burden to him, but right now he was the only thing keeping her above the surface. Barely.

It didn't take long for Mulder to sense her eyes on him, or maybe it was the absence of muffled crying sounds that triggered his subconscious alarm, whatever it was he awoke almost instantly and spotted her immediately.

She looked like a ghost and it scared the hell out of him.

"Hi," he said, sitting up quickly. "Did you need anything?"

Scully shook her head, averting her gaze to the floor. "Only my life back."

"I know the feeling," Mulder sighed, extending his arm towards her. "Come sit with me. I'm not getting much sleep either."

Reluctantly, Scully joined him on the couch and he immediately covered her with a blanket, leaving one protective arm around her shoulders.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered gently.

Scully shook her head, but spoke anyway. "What's there to talk about?" she asked the floor. "I let him rape me."

With those words she burst into tears, unable to control them any longer, and frankly she didn't care. She buried her head in Mulder's chest, not just for comfort, but to hide from the huge shame that washed over her.

"I… let him… ra… rape me," she repeated through violent sobs.

Mulder tightened his hold on her shoulders and hugged her head with his other arms, holding her as close as possible, trying to shield her from her own words. They've managed to avoid _the_ word so far. They've danced around it, ignored it, refused to acknowledge it. Both of them.

Now that she's said it, they couldn't keep avoiding it. Now it felt even more real.

"Stop saying that," Mulder said, kissing the top of her head. "You know that's not true."

"How would you know? You weren't there," she reminded him. She could have put a stake straight through his heart and it would hurt less. Pfaster got his way with her precisely because Mulder wasn't there. If he was, he would've never let that happen. He would die first, but what good was it to her now? He wasn't there and he had to spend the rest of his life living with that fact.

But this wasn't about him, he reminded himself.

"I know it wouldn't be a rape if you let him," he assured his friend, who tried to answer but was sobbing too hard to be able to form a coherent word.

He kissed the top of her head again and gently rocked with her, once again firmly keeping her shattered pieces together, not letting her fall apart completely.

"I don't…" she said when she was able to talk again. "I don't want to live… like this."

Mulder froze at her words and the determination in them.

"Don't say that," he begged her. "It feels like that now, but it will get better. There's so much more you need to do in your life. This isn't the end."

"It feels like it," she admitted.

"I know," Mulder agreed. "But you can't let him win. _We_ can't. We are stronger than this."

Scully raised her head to look him in the eyes, and saw in there that he meant every word he said. As long as he was willing to fight for her, she owned him to at least let him try.

Tiredly, she closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. "Will you talk to me Mulder?"

"Sure," he agreed. "What do you want to hear?"

"Your voice," she requested, leaning back into him. "It calms me down."

"Ok," Mulder kissed and stroked her hair, trying to think about calming subject to talk about. She didn't want to hear about aliens now, did she? Or consortium, Alex Krycek, Elvis or Lone Gunmen…

"On the night Samantha was born…" he finally started telling her his earliest memory. He took off his tear-soaked shirt, but Scully wouldn't let him get another one, clutching to his naked chest instead. If he let her go for a second she would eat a bullet or cut her wrists, she was sure of that. She needed him to hold her and talk to her until the storm in her head passed and she was able to trust herself again. So far she couldn't. So far she could only trust Mulder.

They lied down on the couch together, wrapped around each other, and soon fell in a deep sleep in the middle of Mulder's story.

When they woke up late in the morning, Scully declared that she was done crying. She decided it was time to go home.


	7. Chapter 7

Scully's hands were shaking when Mulder handed her the new keys, keeping one for himself. He guided her in, his hand protectively resting on her back.

She feared what was waiting for her inside, but everything was cleaned, neat and tidy. It looked like an average apartment, like a home.

But not _her_ home. She was already contemplating moving again.

"I'm afraid to ask how much this costed," she said to Mulder.

"I'd let you pay me back, Scully, but I've lost the receipt," Mulder answered jokingly. "So I don't know what you owe me. Consider it an early birthday present."

"Or a late one," she nodded absentmindedly. She would pay him back, of course, birthday or not, but she wasn't up to arguing about it now. He's done more than enough for her.

"Thank you," she said instead.

Mulder went to her bedroom to put her overnight bag in there, but she didn't follow him. She went to the bathroom instead, desperate for a shower.

But the bathroom… It was where it happened. It was where Pfaster had squeezed his disgusting hand around her neck, warning her to be still and quiet.

"I'd rather you be alive for this," he'd told her. "But it is not necessary."

She hadn't been able speak, hadn't been able to breathe, but she had tried to nod that she understood. She'd had to play by his rules, to buy more time to think, to figure out how to escape, how to overpower him…

But time didn't help her.

She had traded her dignity for her life. The worst decision she's ever made. She wanted to take it back, she wanted it so badly that it hurt. Her body shook in a burst of rage, but not even the tiniest part of her anger was directed towards her attacker. It was all for her and her alone.

She could have died a hero.

Instead, she chose to live like a victim.

Scully never really hated herself before. But now she knew pure evil, she knew it in a biblical sense, she let it fill her, consume her, taste her and spit her out like an empty shell, no longer useful for anything at all.

His hands. She tried to scream but she couldn't breathe. She didn't even want to. Her body fought for breath, but it didn't deserve it, not after betraying her like it did, after opening up and responding to his touch…

His hands.

All over her.

Inside her.

Choking.

"Scully!"

Stroking.

"Breathe!"

Hitting.

"Come on!"

Pulling.

"Scully!"

Spreading.

"It's me!"

Thrusting.

"Breathe, damn it! Come back to me! Scully!"

"Mulder!" she gasped, taking a deep breath. Her body won again, filling itself with oxygen. Her heart was beating hard, her blood flowing in all directions, her eyes blinking, her skin sweating, her stomach producing acid… It all happened the way it wanted, not asking for her permission, instructions or supplies. She had no control over it, no control over anything at all.

"That's it," Mulder praised her, stroking her cheek. "You scared me big time."

"I'm fine," she said automatically, not because she wanted to say it, but because she was programmed to. Like everything else about her, she had no control over it.

As her breathing was slowing down, she noticed that she was no longer in the bathroom. She was sitting on the couch now, with Mulder crouching in front of her and carefully watching her every move, and she had no recollection of how that happened.

"What's happening to me?" she asked her hands, addressing her whole body. She moved her fingers a little, surprised with their cooperation.

"I assume you got triggered," she heard a quiet, monotone voice. Gentle and friendly, it was like a music to her ears. Her mouth curved in a slightest smile and warmth spread around her heart. Her head leaned into his hand, closing her eyes in the process.

"Mulder," she whispered, though she didn't have to. Her body knew who he was and its every single cell reacted to his presence, to his touch. This was where she wanted to stay forever.

"I'm here," Mulder whispered back, coming even closer and pressing his forehead to hers.

They stayed like that in silence for a few moments, and then she gently pushed him away.

"Go home, Mulder," she told him.

"I'm not leaving you like this," Mulder objected.

"I'll be fine," Scully insisted. "You did all you could."

"It's not enough."

"It is," she took his head in her hands and kissed the corner of his mouth, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek onto his, putting her mouth next to his ear.

"I promise," she whispered to him. "You can call me or… come back later to check on me. I'll be here, resting. I just need some time for myself."

"Scully," he broke the embrace to look her in the eyes. It took an effort to keep his gaze, but she managed it.

"I promise," she repeated.

"Are you sure?" he asked, wiping a lone tear from her cheek, just another thing she didn't have any control over. Damn tear!

But it was a single tear. She managed to keep the rest of them inside. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"No," she admitted. "But he's dead and I'm not. He can't hurt me anymore. Panic attacks won't kill me either. Life goes on and I have to find a way to go with it. You can't be around all the time."

"I'm on a vacation," Mulder smiled. "It's not like I have anything else to do."

"Have you finished your report?" Scully asked teasingly and he chuckled.

"You got me there," Mulder admitted. "I promised Skinner he'd have it yesterday, but you know me and the deadlines…"

"Yeah," Scully nodded, lowering her eyes to the floor. The report. The truth that she wanted to hide because there was no point to reveal it.

"Scully," Mulder raised her chin with his finger to get her to look at him again. "I will only tell them what I saw. He gave you no choice and my report will reflect that. What you told me off the record stays off the record. No one in their right mind would blame you for any of it, and you can't blame yourself."

Scully sighed, but she didn't respond. Mulder was sweet, but he didn't know. How could he? He didn't see her with Pfaster, he didn't witness her body reacting to him in the worst possible way. Even if she described him every single detail of that night, he could still convince himself that it wasn't her fault. Mulder believed what he wanted to believe.

But if he had been there… If he had seen it with his own eyes… He would never want to even look at her again. Scully was sure about that.

"Would you really rather think of yourself as evil than as a victim?" Mulder asked her as if he could read her thoughts. Of course he could. You don't spend seven years stuck in a basement with someone without learning to read in between the lines, to hear what they are not saying.

"I'm going to spend a fortune on therapies, am I not?" Scully sighed.

"Well, it'll probably still be cheaper than drilling a whole in your head," Mulder shrugged. It made Scully chuckle.

"I keep forgetting how much you need me," she observed.

"You shouldn't," he said seriously.

"Do you want to come back in the evening with a dinner?" Scully offered. "I'm not in the mood for cooking."

"Sure," Mulder agreed. "What do you want me to make?"

"I want you to pick up Chinese," she smiled. "Or something else if you prefer, I don't really care, as long as you _don't_ cook."

"Ok," Mulder played with her hair, watching her intently for signs of weakness, of strength, of anything that would help him decide what was the right thing to do. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he didn't want to treat her like a child who can't take care of herself either. Where was he supposed to draw the line?

"Ok," he decided. "I'll be back later, but keep your phone with you, even in the shower, 'cause I'll be calling you every five minutes and if you don't answer…"

"I'll be fine," Scully tried to assure him.

"You damn well will be," Mulder agreed. "I'm just going to require proof of that. Every five minutes. I'm not kidding."

"How about every hour?" Scully suggested.

"Fifteen minutes?"

"Forty-five."

"Half an hour."

"I… okay."

"Half an hour it is."

Mulder got up, briefly kissing her cheek on the way to the front door. She watched him leave and her heart sunk into her shoes. The prospect of being alone, in the place where it all happened, was terrifying and paralyzing. She wanted to run away and never come back, but it was her life, it was all she had. She had to face it, the sooner the better. Besides, Mulder would be only a phone call away…

"Mulder," she stopped him. He turned around, his hand already on the door knob, and waited to hear what she had to say.

"Every half hour," she reminded him. "Don't forget."

"I won't," he promised.

"Thank you," she nodded. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Don't thank me, Scully," Mulder said. "Because I'm not done yet. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go _not_ cook us a dinner."

With that, he left.

Scully went to the door to lock it after him, and then she just stood there, shaking and fighting for breath, but she was fine.

She had to be.

For him.

She owed him as much.


	8. Chapter 8

It didn't make sense to her. She should've been doing better, not worse, but everything felt so much harder than on the night of her assault. Time wasn't healing her wounds, making them deeper instead.

As dirty as she felt, she didn't dare try going to the bathroom again. Her bathroom didn't have Mulder's soap and nothing smelled like him in there, thus nothing was safe. She could feel Donnie Pfaster's ghost lingering around, filling her bathtub, going through her shampoos, flushing a used condom down her toilet… It wasn't her bathroom anymore, it was his.

The whole place was his now. He filled it deeply and thoroughly, just as much as he filled her body.

Scully wished nothing was cleaned and repaired. She wished the broken glass was still laying everywhere. She missed the warm mess of Mulder's apartment. Her place was too neat, just like her attacker.

Just like she's always been…

She couldn't stand it. The couch pillow ended on the floor and she kicked the coffee table after it. It didn't help. The new mess still screamed Donnie Pfaster. His ghost was still determined and completely undistracted.

Well, if he couldn't be distracted, maybe Scully could. She had to stop thinking about him, if only for a second, or she was going to lose her mind.

She went to the shelf and took a random medical book. Her hands shook as she picked it, so she clutched it hard to her chest, taking it to the couch. It all took just a few steps, but to her it felt like a long journey. She sat down, exhausted, and opened the book, but the words didn't mean anything to her. The letters seemed to be forming words in a foreign language, but she forced herself to read anyway, though the meaning kept escaping her brain. She kept coming back to the first sentence, unable to concentrate and make a connection with the text in front her.

Pfaster kept penetrating her mind, but Pfaster could go to hell, exactly where she'd sent him. It was a one-way ticket, with no return options. Not just for him, but for her as well.

 _Who was at work in her?_

 _Or what?_

Mulder had said that Bible allows for vengeance, but does it? Scully hadn't read a single word from the Bible in a long time, and, eidetic memory or not, neither had Mulder. She had to check, so she started another long journey, to her bedroom this time, in search of the holy book of her faith.

Her faith. She drifted away from it, as it didn't really fit her other convictions, her work or her lifestyle. It didn't fit anywhere, except her subconscious and the primal need which even the hard core scientist can never completely turn her back to, a need to believe in something without cutting, weighing, measuring or experimenting on it. To believe in something bigger than yourself.

The sharp sound of the phone startled her. Forgetting the Bible, she rushed to answer it. She couldn't let it ring for long, no, it disturbed the ghost and that was a kind of ghost you don't want to disturb.

It was Mulder. Of course. She spent a few minutes convincing him that she was fine, and when he finally hung up she just stared at phone, dreading his next call, and equally dreading that he wouldn't call again.

It wasn't right, needing him so much. Scully always prided herself in being independent and self-sufficient. If she didn't want him to feel like he had to protect her, she had to get by on her own.

With a sigh, and tremendous effort, she stood up to get a glass of water. Her kitchen never seemed so far away. Each step lasted an eternity, and when she finally made it, Pfaster was waiting for her, hiding in the shadow, in the cupboards, in the air…

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that the bastard was dead and his ghostly presence couldn't harm her. It didn't help though. Dead or alive, his presence was just as strong and just as devastating.

"You didn't win!" Scully screamed, throwing the glass on the floor. It shattered in as many pieces as her soul, but the ghost was unfazed, smiling at her face with his sleek, evil calmness.

"I won't let you win!" she insisted, taking another glass, but leaving it at the counter. She wasn't thirsty anymore, but not knowing what else to do she just stared at the empty glass until the phone started ringing again.

She contemplated answering, but it was too far away. She figured she should clean the broken glass first, but when she kneeled down her hands started to shake violently and the ghost pushed her to the floor, dipping her palms into sharp pieces. The pain was excruciating, but brief, and suddenly everything stopped.

The phone stopped ringing. The ghost was gone. For a fraction of a second, Scully was at peace.

She stood up and turned on the water in the sink, washing the blood from her hands. It burned, but it couldn't have mattered less. It gave her something to do, something to think about other than what she couldn't stop thinking about.

While she busied herself with removing the glass from her hands, Scully started to feel another presence. A sister. Melissa.

With her scented candle and a handful of crystals, Missy silently chanted, purifying the energy around her little sister, now older than she ever got to be. Scully closed her eyes, inhaling the weird, but familiar smell of magic and mysticism that always accompanied her sister.

It wasn't real. It couldn't have been real. Scully knew that, but she didn't care. She wanted the non-existent experience to last forever. She knew Missy couldn't stay for long, so she silently begged her to take her with her.

Melissa didn't respond. She drifted as fast as she appeared, and the darkness was back. Scully looked at her hands, noticing that bleeding had stopped. Without thinking, she picked up one big piece of glass and pressed it on the soft skin of her arm, pulling it towards her elbow, leaving a red trail behind.

The new surge of relief washed over her and when she closed her eyes the blood turned to green, just like her daughter's, her little Emily whose shy, silent smile filled the kitchen with an innocent, pure, healing energy.

With a gasp, Scully drew another bloody line on her arm and this time it summoned her father, her Ahab. She felt his presence much stronger than the previous ones, and when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders she could lean into him just as if he was real, and maybe he was, maybe he was the one who could take her away, finally and completely.

He took the broken glass from her and she let him, burying her head into his chest.

"Starbuck," he whispered with a mixture or worry and care, even a hint of anger.

Except that he didn't.

What he actually said was "Scully".

Startled, Scully opened her eyes and tried to pull away, but Mulder kept the firm hold on her.

"I… This isn't…" she didn't know what to say, but she knew she had to say _something_. "I didn't…"

"I don't need to hear it," Mulder shook his head, dismissing her weak attempts to explain. With one hand wrapped around her shoulders, he used the other to press paper towels on her wounds. It hurt, this time bringing her only pure terror and none of the relief, but he wouldn't let her escape it.

"I'm sorry," she pleaded miserably. "It isn't… I didn't mean to…"

"I know," was all he said.

"It isn't… Isn't deep, it wouldn't… I wasn't… You have to believe me!" she was shaking and her knees were giving up on her, so Mulder had to lower his hand to her waist in order to keep her standing. He carefully guided her to the couch in the living room, all the while listening to her less and less coherent excuses. He left her there for a moment, to get the first aid kit, and she kept mumbling half formed explanations. It was a pitiful sight, and Mulder had to take a brief pause in order to face her. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and willed his hands to stop shaking, but then he kneeled in front of her and started to tend to her wounds as calm and composed as ever.

Feeling ashamed and humiliated, Scully tried to hide her cut arm, claiming that it didn't need any special care, but Mulder was having none of it.

"I wasn't trying to…" she tried for a tenth time, still unable to finish the sentence.

"…hurt yourself," Mulder helped her form the thought and she just nodded in agreement. "You just wanted it to stop. I know. I've been there. You don't have to explain."

Having nowhere to go, Scully finally allowed him to fix her arm.

"Mulder," she almost whispered, trying her hardest not to look him in the eyes, or at what he was doing with her wounds. "Why are you here?"

"You weren't answering your phone. I was worried."

"I'm fine now," she said sharply, crossing her arms in defense. "It won't happen again. I just need to rest."

"Rest then," Mulder agreed. "I'm not stopping you."

"You need to leave," she requested, finally meeting his gaze. Her blue eyes were lifeless and frozen, caught in a winter storm that killed everything in its way. They demanded obedience, but Mulder was never quick to obey.

"I'm not leaving you alone," he insisted. "You won't even know I'm here."

"No," Scully was firm. She stood up and begun to back away from him. "I need you to leave."

"Scully, you are not thinking clearly…"

"Don't!" she started to yell. "Don't you dare telling me how I feel!"

"…think," he corrected her.

"Think, whatever! Just go!"

"Scully please, calm down…"

"Stop! Stop talking! I can't… listen to you… anymore."

"Dana," he was getting really confused and bathed in mixed signals. "I'm on your side, remember?"

"I don't need a man on my side!" she barked and then stopped. She hit a wall with her back and slid down to the floor.

"A man?" she could hear puzzlement and hurt in his voice. Being a man wasn't a good thing at the moment and they were both painfully aware of it. "Is that how you see me?"

"Just go," she begged him. She wanted him to stay, but it wasn't fair to him. He was a man, after all, and now that she'd said it, it couldn't be ignored any more.

The rape culture she was raised in insisted it was always a woman's fault. Men had needs and it was up to women to make sure they don't tempt them. A woman should never walk alone in the dark, wear short skirts, drink too much, put a criminal into jail… She should never wake up on her partner's naked chest, with her leg brushing his morning erection…

A woman should never feel safe. Men were weak and unable to control themselves, so women had to control themselves instead.

Scully didn't consciously believe any of it, but her subconscious, paired with her Catholic guilt, took over and clouded her judgment. The whole culture of victim-blaming stood up against her and she couldn't let Mulder be dragged into it. He didn't deserve it and it was her job to protect him. From herself. From her curse of being born as a woman. It wasn't fair to him to be forced to take care of her just because nobody else knew what happened, to watch her naked without being allowed to react to… She wouldn't ask any of that from her brothers. And Mulder wasn't a brother. He was just a man.

"Just go," she repeated. "You said as far as I needed. And I need you really far."

Until, or if ever, she was normal again. Until she could be a partner again, instead of a damn damsel in distress. Until she defeated the evil inside her, or died trying.

Whoever, or whatever, was at work in her, she wouldn't let it destroy Mulder as well…

Without another word, without as much as goodbye, Mulder turned around and left her apartment. He didn't want her to see him cry, and he couldn't control the tears anymore. He rushed to his car and let the sobs wash over him. He was losing her and it was killing him.

He was a man, but what could he do about that? He didn't ask to be born this way and he would gladly cut off his manhood with the scissors or a knife, if only it could help her, if only she'd allow him to protect her, with his life if he had to. He couldn't give her back what she'd lost, not her sister, not her fertility, and not her dignity.

All he could offer was to remind her of her attacker. He allowed the bastard into his mind, he worked to _understand_ his actions and motivations, to _feel_ how he felt, to _want_ what he wanted… Scully may have killed Pfaster's body, but Mulder kept his mind alive. He couldn't just shake it off, it wasn't how profiling worked, not for him at least. He was able to go deeper into the mind of a criminal than your average profiler, but it made going back that much harder.

Pfaster wasn't the only one who knew what and why he did to Scully. Mulder knew it as well. He didn't figure it out soon enough to prevent the assault, but it was enough to make him feel as perverted as him. Of course Scully couldn't bear to have him around, not only he knew what happened to her, but he understood why it happened.

As if it was something worth understanding. As if it deserved to be validated, first by Pfaster, and then revalidated by Mulder's insight into Pfaster's mind.

He'd told Scully to drop the case and go home, that she was too close to it, it was too personal for her. But he never once thought to consider that he was just as close to damn case as she was. He was too arrogant to see it and now Scully was paying for his arrogance, his stubbornness, his male privilege…

She had every right to resent him.

She had every right to hate him.

This time, it really was all his fault…


	9. Chapter 9

"Dana?" a soft voice awoke her from an uneasy nap.

"Mom?" Scully squinted. "What are you doing here?"

"Fox called me," Maggie explained, looking around the messy living room. "He said you could use some help."

"Mulder?" Scully partially sat up, a sting of pain and a lot of warmth spreading around her heart at the mention of Mulder's name. He still cared. But he called her mother. What… What did he tell her?

"He gave me his key," Maggie awkwardly waved a brand new key as if in explanation.

"What did he tell you?" Scully asked carefully, dreading the answer.

"That your place was broken into," Maggie said worryingly. "I was hoping you'd fill me in on details."

"Details?" So he didn't tell her? But why? And why did he call her? She told him she didn't want anybody's help.

No. She'd told him she didn't need no man. And he sent her a woman.

Oh, Mulder!

"Dana, what happened?" Maggie sat next to her on the couch.

"Um… An old case. He escaped from the prison and wanted a revenge."

"Oh my god," Maggie gasped. "Was he caught? Are you hurt? Is it safe?"

"Yeah, he… He's dead, mom. I'm fine," Scully tried to assure her.

"Thank god," Maggie sighed with relief, then pulled her into a firm hug. "Why didn't you call me?"

"You were on a trip. I didn't want you to worry."

"Oh Dana," Maggie scolded her, not letting her go. "I returned yesterday. I could've spent the night here. Why do you always keep things from me?"

Scully didn't answer. She held onto her mom, wishing she was still a little girl without a care in the world.

"He's dead, mom," she shook from suppressed sobs. "I killed him. He's dead. Then how come I can still feel him? Why won't he go away?"

"Dana?" Maggie pulled away to look her in the eyes. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing mom," Scully tried to pull herself together, realizing she'd said too much. "It's over."

"Did he hurt you?" Maggie looked at her cuts.

"No," Scully pulled her arm away, a little too fast to be above suspicion. "It's just a few bruises."

"Dana, look at me," Maggie insisted. "This… man. Did he… touch you?"

Scully closed her eyes with a sigh. She couldn't lie to her mom, but she couldn't tell her the truth either. She just couldn't.

"He tried," she finally said. "I killed him. I didn't have to. Mulder had him, but I killed him."

"Oh honey," Maggie hugged her again. "I'm sure you had no choice."

"I don't know, mom, I just don't know anymore…"

"It's ok," Maggie assured her. "Why don't you get some rest while I fix us something to eat?"

"Ok," Scully agreed. Rest was the last thing she needed, but everybody seemed to think it was the only thing she should do. She was too weak to argue, and frankly, too weak to do anything else either. She went to bed and refused to leave it for the next couple of days.

Maggie stayed the night, and then kept coming daily to cook and clean. Mulder didn't come, he didn't call, but he kept sending flowers. Every day a different bouquet, a different card. He never wrote anything, choosing cards with pre-written messages instead. They were simple, generic phrases like "Get well soon", "Thinking of you", or even "Miss you". Signed with "M", barely enough to make it personal, but enough nonetheless.

Scully treasured those little cards. She kept them under the pillow and read them often. That one initial that he wrote on each of them meant the world to her. It meant he touched them. It kept him close to her. As far as he was, chasing aliens and searching for the truth, a part of him stayed with her, waiting for her.

She had to get better because she needed to join him.

Yet, when her vacation week came to an end, she called Skinner and requested another one.

She just wasn't ready to face the world again, with or without Mulder by her side.

What Scully didn't know was that Mulder kept in touch with her mother. He asked Maggie not to tell her because he didn't want to upset her. Maggie loyally called him every time she left her daughter's apartment, and briefed him on her condition.

There wasn't much to say and her reports were more or less the same each day. Dana was sleepy and tired. She didn't eat much. She refused to take a shower. She may have not been getting worse, but she wasn't getting any better either.

Mulder didn't like any of it. He expected her to be her old self by now. In the past, she always would. She was unbreakable and unbeatable, no matter the circumstances. Sure, she would occasionally fall, but she would always jump right back up, stronger than before.

Even with terminal cancer, Scully was unstoppable. And Mulder wasn't going to let Pfaster take that away from her, no matter what it took.

But how? That part he didn't know.

When he passed the charge of his partner to her mother, the first thing he did was to clean up the office. All the recreational tapes had to go! All the disturbing pictures had to be taken off the wall. He even wanted to label folders with trigger warnings, but he soon realized that there was hardly any file that wouldn't warrant a warning.

It was a bizarre idea, trying to make the X files office safe and friendly for a traumatized person, but crazy or not, he had to try. He didn't know what else to do.

He buried himself in work, but only office related. He didn't want to go on the field, not without back up, and not farther away from his back up than she ordered him to be. In the unlikely event of her needing something from him, he had to stay close.

One day Mrs. Scully requested to see him in person.

"No, no, nothing's wrong," she assured him. "I just think we should talk."

Talk. Is there a word a man dreads more? It was the surest sign of trouble when a woman _just needed to talk_.

They met outside the Hoover building, Mulder's second, or maybe actually first home.

"I don't know what to do," Mrs. Scully begun without hesitation. "She won't get up and she won't see a doctor. She barely eats and uses the bathroom only briefly, once or twice a day. I think she hadn't showered in a week. She won't talk to me, Fox, so I need you to tell me. What happened to my daughter?"

"She'll be all right," Mulder avoided the question. "Just give her some more time."

"Fox, look at me," Maggie insisted and he didn't have a choice but to return her gaze and face the more direct question he knew was coming. "She said that this… man tried to touch her. But he didn't just try, did he? He… He succeeded. Didn't he?"

Mulder watched her helplessly, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. It was more than he could take, but he owed it to this woman to stay strong. It was his job to take care of her daughter. More than that, it was his mission. His purpose.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Scully, but you really should talk to your daughter about that. It's not my place to discuss it."

"But she won't talk to me!"

"Then I can't either. I'm sure you understand."

"How can I help her if I don't know what's she been through?" Maggie protested, but it was all in vain. Mulder wouldn't talk. Not that it would make a difference. He knew exactly what Scully's been through but it didn't help him to help her.

He couldn't tell that to her mother, of course. He couldn't tell her anything at all.

"All right," Maggie sighed sadly in resignation. "I understand. I'd better go back to Dana now. Thank you for taking time to meet me, Fox."

She stood up, ready to leave, but Mulder grabbed her arm to prevent her. In a flash of… inspiration, insight or something… he knew exactly what he needed to do.

"No," he said. "Go home. Have some rest. I'll go to Dana. I'll fix this."

Maggie watched him suspiciously, so he smiled in an attempt to relax her.

"I'll fix it," he repeated with determination, suddenly knowing with certainty what he couldn't figure out just moments ago. "I know what she needs. And I'm going to give it to her."

Maggie kept silently watching him with uncertainty, but his sincere eyes gave her all the assurance she needed. They glowed with a promise and hope and this man kept his promises.

If Maggie knew anything about Fox, it was that he'd do anything for her daughter, more so in fact than anybody else ever could. She knew her daughter much better though, thus knowing Dana needed this man above anyone else in this world.

"You think you can bring her back?" she asked hopefully, almost in tears from the strength of her wish to see her child well again.

"Yeah," Mulder nodded seriously, awkwardly holding her hand. "Yeah, I believe I can."

"I trust you," Maggie nodded back, believing with all her heart that he really could. "Go to her, Fox! Bring my baby back to me."


	10. Chapter 10

The ocean. Vast, calming ocean.

Scully was standing barefoot in the sand, a gentle wind playing with her hair.

She was safe, she was at peace.

Then his presence came, out of nowhere, enveloping her with fear in an instance. She felt his hot breath on her neck, his chest pressed to her back, his arms sneaking around from behind her.

She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, but she couldn't move. She was frozen in place, left at his mercy.

"Missed me, girly girl?" Pfaster purred complacently.

"You are dead! I killed you, you son of a bitch!" Scully yelled, desperately wanting to get away from him, but she remained paralyzed.

"All you did was set me free," he answered contently. "You became just like me."

"Never!" Scully insisted. She thought she'd heard Mulder and felt a huge relief. She opened her mouth to call for him, but Pfaster's hands enveloped her belly, distracting her.

"You can feel me, can't you?" he moaned, thrusting his hips into her ass. "I'm growing inside you."

"No!" she tried to pull away, but he only grabbed her tighter.

"Scully, it's me!" she heard Mulder's voice loud and clear now.

"Mulder!" she yelled in panic. Her belly started growing under Pfaster's hands until she looked nine months pregnant. With triplets! Or more.

"Scully, wake up!" Mulder called her, but she couldn't see him. She didn't know where he was.

Becoming too heavy, she fell down, Pfaster landing on top of her. No, not again! Please god, not again!

But it was happening all over again. She couldn't stop him.

"Mulder!" she screamed desperately, overwhelmed with fear and pain. And shame. So much shame.

"Scully, you're dreaming," Mulder's disembodied voice informed her. "Wake up!"

"I can't!" she cried out. "I don't know how! Make him stop, Mulder, please make him stop!"

But Mulder wasn't coming. Only the waves came. Angry and huge, they washed over Pfaster and her in an instant, covering them so deeply and completely that they couldn't see the light anymore.

Scully was drowning, but Pfaster didn't stop. He became even harder, faster and more brutal, splitting her in two while she chocked on salty water.

"Come on, wake up," Mulder pulled her in a sitting position and she opened her eyes. Bewildered, she pushed him away, fighting for breath as if the sea water followed her into a waking state.

"Okay, okay," Mulder moved away from her, raising his arms in surrender. "Just breathe, okay? Count with me, Scully. Twenty… Nineteen… Seventeen… Sixteen…"

He counted slowly, letting his voice ground her in present reality. He didn't know if it would work, but he also didn't know how else to reach her, especially since he apparently wasn't allowed to touch her anymore.

"…Eleven… Ten… Nine…"

Slowly, but efficiently, Scully's breathing regulated itself and she was able to join his countdown.

"…Three… Two… One," they counted together. One more crisis overcome.

Mulder let out a huge sigh of relief. He was sweating, as if it was his own fight he just witnessed. If he could, he would gladly endure it all instead of her, but sadly that wasn't an option. He felt so useless and helpless.

Scully didn't move, so he waited for her.

For a moment they just stared at each other, their eyes having silent conversations about the things they never dared to say aloud, the thoughts they'd never admit having.

 _You left me._

 _You kicked me out._

 _I was alone._

 _I called your mother._

 _I didn't want you to._

 _I was worried._

 _You didn't call._

 _You didn't either._

 _Do you blame me?_

 _I'm here now._

 _I love you._

 _I love you._

"You forgot eighteen," Scully was the first to speak.

"It got your attention, didn't it?" Mulder smiled. "I was counting on you noticing."

"Why are you here?" she asked tiredly, not returning the smile.

"I've got a case for you," his smile widened.

"A case?" she raised her eyebrow suspiciously. She didn't think he would let her go back to work so soon, if he'd ever let her at all.

"The Amazing Maleeni," Mulder announced proudly. "A magician who performed a trick that consisted of turning his head around for the full 360 degrees, went to sit in his van and then his head fell off. He's dead," he thought to clarify.

"His head fell off?" Scully instantly jumped into her skeptic mode.

Mulder's heart leaped out of joy and excitement. His plan seemed to be working. Scully was showing genuine interest in the case he found for them. Now he just needed to convince her to come with him, but that was something he was profoundly skilled at.

"Mulder, a head can't just fall off," Scully lectured him. "It's anatomically impossible."

"Care to join me and try to prove that theory?" Mulder teased her.

"A theory?" Scully was amused. "I thought such a basic science was a common knowledge."

She shouldn't have to prove such obvious things, not even to him, but he was pretty successfully pulling her strings and it was hard to resist him. Proving Mulder wrong certainly wasn't the only joy in her life, but it just as certainly was one of her biggest passions.

"If you are not up to it, I'll understand," Mulder pulled the last card, feigning innocence.

"No, I'm ready," Scully quickly decided, just as he thought she would.

She needed to work to get out of her head, to keep her sanity. She'd told him as much, but he wasn't listening. He insisted she needed to rest, even though he witnessed countless times that work was her refuge.

Instead of helping her, Mulder inadvertently pushed her deeper into the darkness. It was time to start bringing her out of there.

It took him some time, but he found a nice, seemingly easy case that shouldn't be triggering. Magic! An interesting autopsy for her. Los Angeles!

Far away from the crime scene that she vegetated in. Hopefully far enough.

He felt he needed this almost as much as she did. Office work wasn't agreeing with him and he was getting restless, though Skinner was pretty pleased with the amount of long neglected paperwork being finally completed.

"Get dressed," Mulder urged her, leaving the room to give her privacy. "You can shower at my place while I book as a flight and then we can go over the case. I believe I owe you a dinner too, so we can order something to eat while we're on it."

He closed the door behind him before she had a chance to respond. That was good, because she didn't know what to say. She could feel herself blushing at his words. It was sweet of him to offer his shower as if it really was more convenient, instead of acknowledging her phobia of her own. But how did he know? How did he know that Pfaster's ghost lived in her bathroom?

Ha! Try to prove _that_ theory, Dr. Scully!

She was being ridiculous and irrational, she knew that, but she still accepted Mulder's offer with opened arms. When they get back from the case, she would exorcise her demons and use her own damn shower, she firmly promised to herself.

But not today.

She emerged from the bedroom all dressed up but feeling self-conscious, painfully aware of her bad hygiene. Though, what difference did it make? She knew from experience that a shower couldn't make her feel clean. Nothing could anymore.

Before he could stop himself, Mulder glanced at her arm and she quickly pulled the sleeve over it, but then she pulled it back towards herself and let him take a look, to assure him there were no new cuts.

"It's healing nicely," he noticed contently.

"I don't know what happened, Mulder," she sighed apologetically. "But I'm not going to do it again. There won't be any scars left, either."

"Good," he nodded. "You clearly knew how not to make a damage, even in the state you were in. Have you considered becoming a surgeon?"

"Why?" she stiffened, not liking the joke. "Are you looking for a new partner?"

"No, I was wondering if I should start training for a nurse."

"A nurse?"

"Yeah," Mulder grinned. "I figure that's the only way I could keep working with you. I don't believe I would be given access to anything other than poop and vomit."

"Lucky for you, I have no plans of leaving FBI any soon," Scully smiled and shyly looked at floor. He really was making everything easier for her and she was more grateful than she knew how to express, so she didn't even try.

Mulder was glad to hear she was still in it as much as he was.

"Ready to go, FBI woman?" he asked her lightly and she nodded, avoiding his gaze. Her shyness didn't bother him, much. He knew they needed way more time for things to go back how they were, but they were finally on a good start towards it.

They were on the road again.

It was hard for Mulder to restrain himself from touching her. Physical contact between them used to be natural and subconscious, something he never gave any thought into. Now though, she clearly wasn't comfortable with it, even if she didn't complain. She tolerated his closeness, but if they unintentionally brushed each other he could feel her stiffen, so he tried not to.

She seemed to take comfort in his presence, keeping close to him, but careful not to touch him, as if she desperately needed him near, but just as desperately needed her own space as well.

Mulder tried to prevent other people from touching her, too, which can become tricky when you are dealing with magicians. Scully freaked out when one of them took her ID without her noticing. He had to remain her to breathe afterwards, but it was the only incident. Everything else was solved by Mulder stepping in front of her if anybody came too close.

Scully turned out to have been right, and Mulder was glad that she did. Maleeni's head didn't magically fell off. It was carefully sawed after he died of a heart attack, then glued back to the body, which was also frozen for a while.

It wasn't even Maleeni, but his identical twin.

All in all, it did turn out to be a fun little case and Scully responded well to it. Mulder kept making jokes and little tricks to entertain her and she didn't hate it. He even dared to briefly touch the tip of her nose, but nothing more than that.

It was amazing to see her laugh, joke and have fun. For once, he managed to do something right for her. He managed to get her out of bed and lead her back into the world. It made the case successful beyond his wildest dreams.

As good as it was, it had to end soon. It was a good vacation, but they soon found themselves back at home, back into the reality, as gloomy and depressing as they've left it.


	11. Chapter 11

One evening, about two months after her assault, Scully knocked on Mulder's door.

"Hi," he was surprised and delighted to see her. "Come on in."

He moved to let her inside and she entered nervously, staying near the door. She was holding a little pharmacy bag and avoiding his gaze.

"Is everything all right?" Mulder asked worryingly.

"Yeah, I just…" Scully started, forcing herself to look at him. "I need you to do this with me."

She handed him the bag and he took it reluctantly, his heart beating a little faster. What did it mean? Was she sick? Was it… cancer?

"What is this?" he asked, afraid to look inside.

Scully opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. She turned away from him, embarrassed, questioning the idea to come to him with this particular issue. But she had nowhere else to go.

Having no other choice, Mulder finally opened the bag and took a little box out of it. He had no idea what to expect, but what he found went beyond his wildest imagination.

"Is this a joke?" he asked, not laughing. If it was, it wasn't funny. It was bizarre.

"I need you to look at the result for me," Scully explained, convincing Mulder that she completely lost her mind. "Because I don't think I can."

"Do you also need me to pee on this?" he asked sarcastically, having a huge trouble believing that he was having this conversation. "Because it'll get you the same result."

"Mulder," Scully sighed. "Please don't make this any harder than it already is."

"Scully," he said slowly, as if he was explaining something to a child. "You are a… barren woman."

It hurt to say those words, to remind her of that painful fact, but he had to stop this nonsense.

"Barren women get pregnant from time to time," Scully insisted. "It's not unheard of. It happens and no one can explain it."

"I thought," Mulder nodded, looking at the floor. Now it was him who couldn't return the gaze. "I thought you said he, um, used a condom."

"It could have been pierced or damaged in some way," Scully sounded as if she was actually saying something logical and reasonable and it was starting to drive Mulder crazy. "Though not even perfectly correct condoms offer a hundred percent protection."

"Even with a barren woman?" Mulder asked incredulously. "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?"

"You told me to never give up on a miracle," Scully reminded him with teary eyes. Or maybe she said it to prove that she wasn't a shape-shifter. Mulder didn't know what to think anymore.

"This isn't what I meant!" he snapped. "Damn it, Scully, it would be an abomination, not a miracle!"

"Fine," Scully said calmly, even though her hands were shaking. "Let me have the test and you'll get your proof."

He didn't need a proof. He needed his scientist back. He wanted to shake her, to slap her, throw cold water on her face, or whatever was needed to bring her back to her senses. But he couldn't do any of that and all he had was a damn pregnancy test.

So he returned it to her.

"Go ahead," he said. "You know the way."

"Will you…?" Scully was afraid to ask.

"Yes, I'll read the results for you," he promised with a roll of his eyes. "Let's just get this madness over with."

"Thank you," she whispered sadly, then quickly went to his bathroom.

With a sigh, Mulder sat on his couch, waiting for her. It brought back memories and he wasn't sure which was worse, those memories or the present moment.

They've done this before. But that time they hoped for the opposite result. Scully came to him with the same request and they waited for what seemed forever, even though the clock said it only lasted five minutes. Those five minutes he wouldn't mind to have lost to some alien cause, but it was the one time aliens left them alone. Them, and their child that wasn't meant to be…

He didn't need to tell her the results when the time finally passed, she was able to clearly read it on his face. It was right before her doctor's appointment and she decided to go alone, not letting him accompany her despite his protests. There was no use, she reasoned, since they already knew the results, as unofficial as they were.

She wanted to face the confirmation of her hopes being crushed alone. Like she always did.

Mulder, on the other hand, didn't want to be alone. He went to her place and waited for her there. Good news or bad news, he wanted to be there for her.

He also wanted to know. Not because he wanted a child, no, it would have been _her_ child and he wasn't going to stand in the way. She asked him to be a donor, not a father.

But those were _his_ boys nonetheless, and he wanted to know if they could swim and seduce the ova that he once held in his pocket.

Apparently they couldn't.

He told Scully never to give up on a miracle, and now he never wanted so badly to take anything back in his life. What a hell of a timing it was for her to decide to believe him for once!

She was back in his bathroom now, peeing on a stick while he waited for her on his couch. They were doing it all over again, but for the worst possible reason.

When Scully returned, she handed him the stick without a word and he placed it on the shelf next to the aquarium, checking the time.

They sat in silence for a few moments, but the tension soon became unbearable and someone had to say something.

"I know how crazy this must seem to you…" Scully started, unsure how to proceed.

"It doesn't matter," Mulder shook his head then buried it in his hands. He suddenly felt exhausted and the thought about what they were doing was giving him a serious headache.

"I just…" she continued. "I need to know. I need… something… to be right again."

And by right she meant _still barren_. What a crazy turn of events! Everything was completely upside down.

Mulder raised his head to look at her, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at her hands, lost in the prison that she carried with her everywhere she went. He started to hope the news would help her break free, at least a little bit.

It was going to be good news, wasn't it? Pfaster did simply walk out of maximum security prison, but it didn't mean his _boys_ could do the same, and even if they could they wouldn't be coming out on a fertile ground.

That man was only capable of destroying life, not making one.

When the time passed and Mulder reached for the stick, Scully suddenly stood up.

"This was a mistake," she announced anxiously. "I should go."

She grabbed her purse and rushed towards the door, but Mulder was faster and he managed to block her way.

"Don't you want to know?" he asked gently.

"No!" she screamed. "I need to leave! Let me go!"

She tried to push him away, but he stayed in place. He grabbed her arms in an attempt to calm her down, forgetting for a moment that physical touch was upsetting for her.

"It's ok!" he tried to out-yell her, but she was getting hysterical.

"No! It's not! Just let me go!"

"It's negative!"

"LET ME GO!"

"Scully, it's negative! You are not pregnant! Listen to me! You are NOT pregnant! It's fine. Everything is fine."

"It's negative?" the words finally reached her and she stopped struggling.

"It's negative," Mulder repeated gently. "You are not pregnant. It's over."

She nodded, shaking under his grip.

"Please let me go," she whispered and Mulder immediately released her, terrified of the possibility that his grasp hurt her in any way.

Scully turned away from him and rushed to the kitchen, leaving him shaken and worried.

What had he done to her? How could he forget? How was he going to fix it, damn it?

He followed her to find her leaning over a chair, breathing rapidly but normally. She wasn't fighting for breath, so at least that was a good sign.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly, afraid of upsetting her further.

"No, I'm sorry," she said, straightening up and pulling herself together. "I don't know what's gotten into me."

Well, it wasn't the truth, but Mulder wasn't going to object. They both knew exactly what'd gotten into her, but the problem was that neither of them knew how to get it – or _him_ \- out.

Mulder went to the fridge, grabbed a couple of beers and handed one bottle to her.

"Since you are not pregnant I believe you are allowed to drink this," he offered. "I think you need one."

He sure needed it himself.

"Thank you," Scully took the bottle, sitting down at the table. "I don't know what I'd do if it was…"

"It wasn't," Mulder tried to assure her, taking a seat opposite to her, at a safe distance. "It isn't. It's okay."

"Are you sure?" she pleaded. She hated herself for acting so weak, but the doubt in her mind just wouldn't go away. Pfaster had his ways of torturing her, even from beyond the grave.

Mulder didn't answer her question. He got up instead, went back to the living room to retrieve the stick so that she could see for herself.

Not pregnant.

She wasn't pregnant.

The fact was finally starting to sink into her brain and she visibly relaxed, taking a celebratory sip of beer.

"What made you think it could be any other way?" Mulder asked gently, trying to help her get it out of her system for good.

"I…" Scully was beginning to feel seriously embarrassed about the whole thing. "It doesn't matter. You wouldn't believe me."

" _I_ wouldn't believe you?" Mulder chuckled in surprise. "Are you aware of who you are talking to?"

That got a tiny little smile from Scully as well. She raised her gaze from the stick to look at him. He was sitting opposite to her again, far enough, but close enough as well. It helped her relax a bit further.

"Right," she nodded, realizing that she at least owed him an explanation for what must have seemed like a bizarre behavior to him. If she wanted to get her life under control again, she had to start taking responsibility for her actions and cleaning her messes.

"I keep having these dreams," she explained. "He tells me I'm pregnant… My belly gets swollen and I can feel a movement inside… He… He tells me it's his child… Or he himself… Growing inside me… I know it's just a dream, Mulder… But it feels so real…"

"It's not just a dream," Mulder offered. "It's how your subconscious is dealing with trauma. It'll stop. You'll be fine."

"Yeah," Scully sighed. "I wish I was as sure about that as you are."

"I see a change in you," Mulder insisted. "I know you can feel it too. You are struggling, but the worst is behind you."

"Tennessee snakes," Scully contemplated, seemingly changing the subject. "Our last case, Mulder. When O'Connor pressed me to that cage and tried to force my hand inside, to those angry snakes… I wanted to live. For the first time since Pfaster… I wanted to live."

A few tears started silently rolling down her cheeks. She looked at Mulder, waiting for a comment, but he just nodded, penetrating every cell in her body with his gaze. It gave her goosebumps.

"I suppose…" she licked her lips nervously, feeling self-conscious again. "I suppose facing deadly snakes will do that to you."

"It wasn't snakes, Scully," Mulder finally spoke, gently but firmly at the same time. "It was you. It was your choice. Your decision. You decided to face your fears, and when you couldn't do it alone you were strong enough to admit you need help and ask for it."

He motioned towards the pregnancy test on the table, whispering so silently that she barely heard him. "I'm proud of you."

She wondered how he did that. How he always made her feel better. She came to him frightened, completely embarrassed herself in front of him and he made her feel worthy. He made her feel accepted. What he saw in her, that was what she wanted to believe in. That was what she wanted to become.

Taking a deep breath, she wiped away the tears.

"I'm seeing my gynecologist tomorrow," she announced. "Just a regular checkup, but I didn't want any surprises, no matter how improbable… Thank you for doing this with me, Mulder."

"Did it make you feel better?" he asked. As if he had to ask.

"I feel like a huge stone fell from my shoulders," Scully answered. "Like I can truly breathe again. It's as if I was given another chance… But there is a part of me that feels disappointed. I wanted a child for so long and if something like this happened… If it had been a possibility… My only chance… I'm not sure I could refuse it. Even from an evil man…"

"All children are born innocent," Mulder said. "Our parents' sins don't define us as persons. If you were in that situation I'm sure you'd make the right decision for you. I'm just glad you don't have to."

"If I had anonymous donor…"

"You didn't."

"I know, but if you refused… It would've been my only choice."

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I would refuse."

"I would have had hundreds, maybe thousands samples to browse through," Scully continued, not even registering his remark. "I could had chosen eye colors, level of education and many other details about potential donors… But there would be no way of knowing if the man was evil or not."

"I'm not such a good catch myself," Mulder joked. "I wonder why you even considered me."

"Who else, Mulder?" Scully, on the other hand, was deadly serious. "You are a wonderful, passionate, caring man."

"Still," Mulder smiled mischievously. "It would've been a handful kid."

"Oh, I bet," Scully agreed playfully. "But I could handle it. I've had a lot of practice."

"You'd be a great mother, Scully," Mulder said.

"You'd be a great father," Scully answered, feeling sad again, remembering that she'd never have a chance to find out what if feels to be a mother or how well she would handle that role. But Mulder, he still had a chance at parenting.

"Do you want to be?" she asked him. "Do you want to settle down and have children one day?"

"I've thought about it," he admitted. Ever since she asked him to be a donor, he thought about having a child. He had never considered it before, having long ago dedicated his life solely to search for his sister, but Scully's request opened his mind to some extreme possibilities.

"I've thought about a little girl, playing with Samantha's toys…" Mulder mused. "Bringing back joy to my family, my mother… Or a little boy, to play baseball with and go for a run... You know, Scully, I run so fast that no one has ever been able to keep up with me. I like to think William could."

"William?" Scully was surprised. He had a name for him?

"Yeah," Mulder chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed. "After my father. I know it's not the best choice, but I'm not very creative in that area, so I go with the easiest one. If it ever happens I'll let his mother pick a name."

"No, it's a good name. I like it," Scully assured him. "It's like my brother. And father."

"Do you think we would be able to keep our kids safe?" Mulder wondered. "I mean, your kids," he quickly clarified. "And mine."

"Well, we don't have to worry about my children, do we?" Scully answered, looking at the pregnancy test. She picked it up and took it to the trash. "As for yours… I'd protect them with my life."

"One day, Mulder," she smiled, turning to him. "You'll have your William."

"How do you know?" Mulder was puzzled.

"I just know," she answered mysteriously, with a sudden certainty which she couldn't even begin to explain. "I just do."


	12. Chapter 12

"Mrs. Mulder," Scully approached the body. "Hello."

She stood there for a while, almost expecting the corpse to talk back to her.

But Teena Mulder remained silent. There was no getting answers from her without cutting her open, retrieving and measuring her organs, desecrating what was left of her.

It was one thing with a stranger, but this was someone Scully knew. She had never performed an autopsy on somebody she was acquainted with before and she was certain that she wasn't supposed to.

This was Mulder's mother. A family. Scully desperately wanted to put down the scalpel and run away, to let someone else do this.

There were other pathologists, seemingly perfectly capable of getting the job done, but none of them would do. They didn't know what to look for and Mulder was right, he couldn't give them the specifics. No one would take him seriously and do what he'd ask them to do.

No one but Scully.

She couldn't refuse. She owed him as much. Besides, Mulder would never find peace without the answers and if there was any doubt at all that his mother didn't take her own life, Scully had to find proofs. If it was her mother, she would want no less for her.

Her mother…

Oh god, how hard this must be for Mulder…

"He is my friend, and you are his mother," Scully reminded the corpse, as if expecting Mrs. Mulder to object and refuse the autopsy, but she remained quiet.

It didn't prevent Scully from talking to her. Cutting her open without a word just seemed too rude.

"I have your medical files here," she informed the dead body. "It's a terrible disease. Disfiguring… Untreatable… You just wanted to go out with dignity… While you still could… Didn't you?"

The corpse did not respond.

Scully took a deep breath. She was certain about her conclusions, but she knew Mulder would want more. He would want to eliminate the ridiculous possibility that someone else relieved his mother of her suffering before she had a chance to do it herself.

So she did what she had to do. She turned on the voice recorder and recited the date and time, along with her name and the name of her… subject.

Then she turned it off.

Tears were rolling down her face. This was even harder than she thought it would be.

She turned away so that Mrs. Mulder wouldn't see her cry. She would certainly be displeased by such a display of unprofessionalism, if Scully knew anything about her. Not that she knew much, not at all.

With a deep sigh, Scully pulled herself together and turned back to the corpse. She picked up a scalpel, then placed it down again.

"Did it work?" she whispered. "Did your suffering end? Have you found peace?"

The body remained silent, but surrounded with calmness and serenity. Death didn't look painful, not when Scully was close to it herself and not in any of the bodies she autopsied. No matter the horrible events that preceded it, death itself seemed freeing, like a relief.

It was only painful for people left behind.

Mulder.

Scully shook her head fiercely. She couldn't allow herself to think about him, not now, not if she was planning on doing what he'd asked her to do.

She took Mrs. Mulder's arm and started examining it, looking for needle marks or anything unusual at all.

"You know," she started talking absentmindedly. "I thought about it. I…"

She dropped the arm and went around to check the other one.

"I'm not sure I wanted to die, I just… I just…" the tears were rolling again and she felt too powerless to even try to stop them. All the determination to never cry about it again, all the burying in work, all the effort to move on… It all went down the drain.

Someone died now, and it was appropriate to cry. But the problem was, once she started there was so much more she needed to cry about. All the carefully suppressed emotions rushed to the surface, demanding their share.

She never told anybody. She never even admitted to herself. It was absurd and highly inappropriate to have those feelings, and she would never admit them to a living person.

But Mrs. Mulder wasn't alive. She wouldn't judge, comment or pity her.

"I feel like I should be punished," Scully confessed as she moved the examination to the legs. "I should be hurt and feel my own blood and the pain… It should have been violent… I mean… Why did he have to be so gentle and careful and thorough and… I mean, he hit me before. We fought… He broke a mirror with me… Then why… Why didn't the rape hurt? Mrs. Mulder… What kind of a woman feels only pleasure during…"

Scully raised her head to look at the head, but Mrs. Mulder remained silent. She didn't judge and didn't complain about her feet being washed in Scully's tears.

Scully picked up a scalpel and brought it to her own arm.

"What do you think, Mrs. Mulder?" she whispered. "Do I deserve to feel the pain?"

Once again, the body was unresponsive.

Scully closed her eyes and saw Mulder's face in her mind. This wasn't about her, it was about him, she reminded herself.

Holding that thought, she approached the body again and made a first cut. She tried to hold her tears during the brief times when the voice recorder was on, but she kept turning it off and talking to her corpse, trying to distract both of them of the cold autopsy process.

"He's devastated by your death," she informed the body. "I know you weren't very close, but he loved you. I don't think that he fully realizes his loss yet. It's going to be a hard night for him. As soon as I'm done here, I'll go to him. I'll take care of him. As long as I live he'll never be alone, I promise you that, Mrs. Mulder."

Talking about Mulder calmed her down and she hurried up, missing him more than she was willing to admit to him or even to herself. But to his dead mother… She wanted to tell her everything, to assure her that he was going to be okay.

"He is my strength, Mrs. Mulder. By this point, I suspect he knows me better than I know myself. I can't hide anything from him anymore, and some things I desperately wanted to hide. Not even my mother knows. I think she suspects, but she doesn't know what I've been through. He is the only one… I couldn't hide it from him and he is being so kind… Maybe too kind. The way he looks at me… He won't say it but I can see it in his eyes. The change. I am not the same after… But neither is he. His mere presence reminds me of… and I just want to run away and hide from him, but when I'm alone I need him more than ever. I don't know how to fix it, how to make things the way they were before all this. Sometimes… I get nervous around men and he knows it. He comes closer to me or between us and I feel safer. Sometimes it's just too much and I have to leave. He completes the interrogation without me and then finds me sitting on the stairs or in the car… And he just sits with me until I'm ready to go. He doesn't ask me if I'm all right. He knows that I'm not. But he makes me want to be. Mrs. Mulder… I can't tell you what your son means to me."

Still crying, Scully carefully placed all the organs back into their places and sewed the wounds, before giving Mrs. Mulder her last bath. She didn't want strangers to do it.

When everything was cleaned and done, and Mrs. Mulder's medical files rechecked twice, Scully wiped the tears and took the scalpel again. She brought it back to her arm once more, contemplating the possibilities. It would be so easy and quick and the relief would be immense. The twisted justice would be served, and even though Scully understood how wrong it would be, she still felt attracted to it like a moth to the flame.

She was a medical doctor. She knew how to make a fatal cut, precisely and almost painlessly. If she chose to, she could join Mrs. Mulder right then, right there, in a blink of an eye.

But that time had passed. She chose a different path, for better or worse, and she was going to walk it with her head up. The thought made her smile. It really was a right decision, as hard as it seemed.

"Rest in peace now, Mrs. Mulder," she leaned to kiss the body's forehead, gently stroking the gray hair. "Thank you… for listening. I'd stay with you, but there's nothing more I can do here and he needs me more than you now. I have to go to him."


	13. Chapter 13

"She was trying to tell you to stop. To stop looking for your sister. She was just trying to take away your pain."

Scully held Mulder while he cried, holding onto her as if his life depended on it.

He smelled like sweat and a whole day's worth of a field work, but it didn't bother her. She liked that smell, it was familiar and close to her, it marked all of their big adventures, all the victories and the times they made through alive.

Besides, she knew she smelled just the same, and with anybody else it would bother her, but not with Mulder, never with him.

He was so warm in her arms. So warm and alive, a sharp contrast to his mother's dead coldness and stiffness.

She held him tighter, needing his warmth, needing to keep it burning while she cried with him.

Their position - him on the chair, her on the floor – was awkward and uncomfortable. He was heavy and he kept leaning into her, which finally threw her off balance. Not much at all, but he felt it and immediately released her, jumping to his feet.

"I'm sorry," he said in horror. "I didn't mean to touch you. I'm sorry."

"It's ok," Scully tried to assure him.

"No, it's not," he objected. "You need to leave."

"Mulder…"

"I can't do this now," he sounded desperate. "I can't walk on the eggshells around you. Just go before I scare you for good."

"Is that how I make you feel?" Scully carefully observed him. "Like you have to walk on the eggshells?"

She took a step towards him, and he took a step back in response.

"I can't think clearly now," he explained. "And you are still… sensitive. It's not safe for you to be here."

"Mulder," she gasped through tears. "This is the safest place that I know of."

"Not tonight," he shook his head fiercely. "Just go. Please. Leave."

"I can't," she refused. "I won't. Not like this."

"I can't do this right now," he turned around and went to his bedroom, but Scully followed him.

"Then let's not do it," she suggested. "Let's put a stop to it."

"To what?" he yelled in frustration. "To you not being able to look at me half of the time? To you turning into stone whenever I touch you? To you being afraid of me?"

He sat on the bed, then changed his mind and slid down to the floor, burying his head in his hands.

"I was never afraid of you, Mulder," Scully carefully approached him and kneeled close to him. "But my body's reactions are out of my control. It betrayed me in more ways than one and I'm sorry. I was being selfish. I never realized how this all affected you."

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" he raised his head and gave her that piercing profiler's look. It made her shiver, completely out of her control.

"For the same reason that you are doing it to me now," she attempted to explain. "I guess I was trying to protect you."

"From what?" he was completely puzzled.

"From all of it," she sighed. "You've seen too much… You know too much… I guess I was afraid of… crossing the line."

"What line?"

"Mulder, you are a man, I don't have to draw it for you. You know what I'm talking about."

"So what are you implying?" If they were going to talk about it, he would go all the way. Clear the things, once for all.

"Only that I can't walk naked around you and…" Scully was not backing up from this conversation either, no matter how hard it was.

"And expect me to not take advantage of you," Mulder concluded. There. The elephant in the room was addressed. The tension in the room was so thick that they both had trouble breathing.

"That is not what I meant!" Scully objected, but her voice was week and the tone of it completely unconvincing.

"No, that's exactly what you meant," Mulder sighed, examining his hands. "It's ok, I understand. You've been violated and it's affecting your judgement. Hell, it's affecting mine as well. Gender was never an issue between us and now… it seems all that there is."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Scully. It is what it is. But I'm sorry you feel that way. I don't care if you're naked or covered in shit, I just want to be there with you. Not as a man protecting a woman, but as a partner, holding your back. As a friend. I hate all this that is standing between us."

"There's nothing between us," Scully sobbed. "But I am not the same as before and I don't think I ever will be. I don't know who I am anymore."

"You are the only one I have left," Mulder said simply, still not looking at her. "The only one I give a damn about. I'm trying to help you, but sometimes I feel like I'm making it worse instead, and it's killing me, Scully…"

"You aren't doing anything wrong," she moved closer to him and placed her hand between his, which made him look at her again. She tried her best to keep up with his gaze. "But this isn't something you can fix. I have to figure it out on my own. It takes time."

"I know. I don't want to pressure you," he brought her hand to his lips, gently kissed her and released her immediately, feeling her shiver and stiffen. "I'm just afraid that… You're letting him win."

"That's true. I am," Scully nodded, bringing her hand shakily to his cheek and forcing it to stay there. "But you are not. And it's you who is winning."

She felt the words were failing her and they weren't enough. She had to do more, so she leaned forward and pressed her lips to kiss. It was the most intimate show of affection that they ever shared, and it was the first time that she initiated it.

Mulder responded hungrily. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her closer, desperately tasting her as if trying to suck the life out of her. It crossed a few friendship lines and Scully started to panic. She pulled away from his lips, but kept her hand on his face, not wanting to hurt him by completely moving away.

"I'm sorry, it was too much…" she sighed, pressing her forehead to his.

"Did he do that to you?" Mulder asked, not sure if he wanted or needed to know, but he had to ask nonetheless.

"No. No, he didn't kiss me."

She briefly brushed his forehead with her lips, then leaned against the bed next to him. Mulder took her hand, wrapped his fingers with hers and they just sat like that in silence.

Broken together.

Stronger together.

"Did she suffer?" Mulder asked after a while.

"I don't know," Scully admitted. "But she looks so peaceful now… It's been a long day, Mulder, you should get some sleep."

"I can't sleep now, Scully," Mulder refused.

"I'll get you sleeping pills…"

"No! I don't want to be numb and drugged. I want to feel it. All of it."

"Mulder…"

"Scully, she was my mother. There's nowhere to hide from it. No pills will make it go away."

"Will you at least lie down?" Scully asked. "I'll be here if you need anything."

Mulder didn't answer and she took it as a yes. She stood up and helped him do the same. He didn't complain as she took off his shirt and pants. He didn't help her undress him, but he didn't stop her either.

She contemplated finding a pajama for him, but it was warm enough so she put him in bed in his underwear and tucked him in. He didn't rest though. As soon as his head touched the pillow he buried his face in it and started to sob, desperately and violently.

Scully sat on the bed feeling helpless. The scene in front of her was breaking her heart and she had to do something, anything! But she couldn't take away his pain, no more than his mother could, no more than he could take away hers. She could only share it.

So she took off her shoes and lied on the covers next to Mulder, pulling him into a hug. He went willingly, showering her in tears, sweat and the heat and she willed her body to relax and accept all of it, all of him, ignoring the instinct to run away. In a way, she needed it just as much as he did.

Not a woman - a friend, she reminded herself of Mulder's words as she let him cry in her embrace. There was nothing inappropriate about that, about them…

Mulder felt as if the tears would never stop, but after a while he started to calm down, wrapped around Scully, taking comfort in the rich smell of her. But it wasn't enough. He needed to hear her voice too.

"Sing to me, Scully," he requested.

"You know I can't sing."

"Please…"

"Ok," she whispered, kissing the top of his head. She cleared her throat and started, as awkward as it felt.

 _"Jeremiah was a bullfrog…"_

"Is that the only song you know?" Mulder interrupted her.

"Pretty much, yes," she confirmed.

"Ok. Go on."

 _"He was a good friend of mine…"_


	14. Chapter 14

Scully woke up when Mulder stirred and raised his head in alert.

"What?" she asked him, refusing to open her eyes just yet. She had no idea what time it was, but it felt way too early. For anything, really.

"Someone's at the door," he informed her.

She sighed and raised into a sitting position, quickly combing her hair with her hands.

"I'll get it," she said. "You are not dressed."

Now she too heard a knocking. She got up, tried to level her clothes a bit, and went to the front door.

"Hi," Skinner said when she opened it up.

"Hi," she responded, feeling self-conscious about her appearance, her state of mind and the place that he found her in like that. She posed defensively, daring him to question or even scold her, but he didn't do any of it and nothing about him made her think that he wanted to.

"How's he doing?" he asked instead, with a genuine concern.

"It's been a hard night for him," Scully answered as a matter of fact. How else did their boss think Mulder would be doing?

After they were done with formalities, Skinner quickly went on about the case, about booking flight tickets for her partner and himself. Apparently no one but Mulder could go talk to the missing girl's mother right away, before his own mother was even buried. Of course not. And Mulder agreed to it without knowing what it was really about.

Of course he would.

"Well then you better book three," Scully ordered Skinner who just nodded, knowing very well that there was no point to argue with her about it. He was more than glad to take her with them, as he wasn't really looking forward to dealing with grieving Mulder by himself. He wanted to book three tickets from the beginning, but he didn't have time to go searching for Scully as well as Mulder. In the case of missing people every second counts and the more time they lose the less likely it was they would find the little girl alive.

"You go first," Mulder motioned towards the bathroom with his head and Scully nodded. She didn't have a change of clothes with her, but she was grateful for a chance to at least take a quick shower.

It was going to be a long day and none of them was looking forward to it. The journey was tense and they barely spoke to each other, lost in their own thoughts and inner worlds.

They didn't find the missing girl, but they found lots of other children's graves instead. It was heartbreaking and of course, _of course_ , Mulder made it all about the search for his sister, as he always tends to do when faced with any kind of child abuse.

It was all too much for Scully and she needed a distance so she went back home, only to find out while doing her own research that there might have been some connection to Samantha after all. There were valid clues this time.

They were finally on the right track, after years of false hopes and blind streets.

"I have this powerful feeling and I can't explain it, but," Mulder said in front of the house of the nurse who might have been the last person that saw Samantha alive. "This is the end of the road. I've been brought here to learn the truth."

"Are you ready for it?" Scully asked him.

He nodded.

"Do you want me to go talk to her myself?" she offered.

He nodded again.

So she did. The nurse she interviewed remembered Samantha and she did turn out to be the last person who saw her alive, or saw her at all, before she vanished into thin air, never to be found again. Starlight or not, Scully was never going to meet Samantha. She was never going to find her.

For a moment, she thought she was never going to find Mulder again, as well. He wasn't waiting for her when she left the nurse's house and the pang of emptiness she felt was unbearable. For a second, she knew exactly how Mulder felt all these years without closure, and it really was unbearable.

Luckily, it didn't last long. Before she had a chance to turn around, Mulder was coming down the hill, talking about Samantha and a missing boy, scaring away the poor police psychic who wouldn't accept that his son was dead.

"Mulder, what happened?" Scully asked. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," he answered with a delay, as if her words were reaching him with a time distance. "Free…"

He stood there, looking at the sky, as if he had all the answers in the world.

Scully had none. She was cold and tired and she wanted to get as far away from that place as she could.

But she stood there with him, not rushing him, just waiting.

"Are _you_ all right, Scully?" Mulder asked after a while, when he finally came back to earth and looked at her.

"I'm fine," she answered.

"You're shaking," he noticed.

"It's getting cold," she shrugged.

"Come here, then," he opened his arms with a smile.

She hesitated for a second, before going into his warm embrace. His touch made her shiver for different reasons, but all the wrong ones so she forbade herself to pull away. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, ignoring her body's misplaced discomfort. It had to be all or nothing, Mulder didn't know any other way.

So she chose all.

"Better?" Mulder whispered when she finally stopped shaking.

"Much," she confirmed and she meant it.

"Can I tell you something, Scully? I know you won't believe me, but I need to tell you what happened. What I saw just now."

"I will believe you, Mulder," she assured him. "Whatever it is I'll believe you."

"I saw her, Scully," he started. "It wasn't real, but at the same time it was more real than this life, in a sense. I saw her and I held her, just like I'm holding you now."

He stopped talking, waiting for a sceptic remark, but none came.

"This is the part you tell me I'm crazy, Scully," he reminded his partner.

"Mulder, I have a ghost of a rapist living in my bathroom," she said. "You are not crazy."

"I had to let her go, Scully. It was hard, but I feel comfort in knowing that she's in a better place. I'm all yours now. All I want is to get you in a better place too, but without having to let you go. Is there anything I can do?"

"You already did more than I could ever ask."

"How about if I shower at your place? Would that scare your ghost away?"

"I don't know, Mulder," Scully chuckled on his chest. "But I guess it's worth trying."

They kept standing there, in each other's embrace, even after they had nothing more to say. Neither of them was willing to break the hug. Their quest, their lives, everything changed once again and they both needed to recharge before moving on, taking strength in the only way they knew how, the only person that could give it to them – their partner, in so many more ways than the FBI required them to be.


	15. Chapter 15

"I've got held up in traffic, so I'm running late," Scully's voice said on the phone. "Let yourself inside."

"Sure," Mulder answered and hung up.

"Fine, whatever," he added when she wasn't able to hear him anymore.

It was all her idea, and now she wasn't even going to be home when he arrives to pick her up? Where did she go anyway? To pick up a last-minute gift for him? He told her he didn't want anything. He made it very clear that he didn't feel like celebrating.

His mother was dead. His sister was dead. He made his peace with it, but it didn't mean he was going to celebrate... anything. It was too soon. It just felt… wrong.

Scully, as usual, didn't agree with him.

"I'm not asking you to throw a party," she told him that morning at work. "I just want to take you out for a dinner."

"Can we do it another time?" he offered. "I'd rather be alone tonight."

"To do what? Wallow in self-pity? It's your birthday, Mulder. I don't want you to be alone."

"I have all this paperwork to do…"

"Mulder, it's Friday! The paperwork won't go anywhere. Besides, we both know I will be the one to do it."

"Thirteenth."

"What?"

"You said it's Friday. But that's not the whole picture. Scully, it's Friday 13th."

"Yeah, I know. October 13th. Your birthday."

"No, not October. _Friday_ 13th. Just like it was when I was born."

"Oh," Scully raised an eyebrow and curiously observed him. Every now and then he managed to leave her speechless for a second and he treasured those moments.

"So…" she started to talk slower, as if she was speaking with a child. "You worry… about something bad happening today? Is that it?"

"It's a cursed date, Scully," Mulder insisted. "Everybody knows that."

He was going to give her a whole lecture about Friday 13th, but she stopped him at the very beginning.

"Do you know what happens to people born on February 23rd?" She asked him.

"What?" he wasn't very enthusiastic about hearing her answer. Nothing happens to people born on _her_ birthday. Everybody knew _that_ too.

"They don't believe in bad luck!" Scully exclaimed triumphantly, as if her disbelief ever stopped any paranormal shit from happening to them.

"Were you born on Friday, Scully?"

"No," she admitted. "But it didn't stop bad things from happening to me. It's just life, Mulder. No one can escape it."

"Samantha liked to tease me about it. In one of the books I liked to read as a kid, it said that people who are born on Friday spend their whole lives in the state of unhappiness."

"What book was that?"

"Numerology. Or something. I was always interested in… stuff… like that. I read all I could find about paranormal abilities, astrology, channeling, alien abductions… I was so into all that, that when Samantha was taken the scenario I imagined felt as the only logical explanation…"

"You were just a kid, Mulder," Scully said gently. "I still remember believing in Tooth Fairy and Santa Clause."

"Your point?"

"My point is that you're a grown man, Mulder. And if you still want to believe in vampires and werewolves, fine, suit yourself. But I won't let you believe in being cursed with a bad luck."

"You of all people, Scully. You who lost so much because of my quest… because of me."

"I'm here because I want to be here. It's my quest too."

"But I started it. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have to watch your sister die. Your daughter…"

"You didn't kill my daughter, Mulder. As for my sister, she wanted me to have this job. She was the only one who supported my decision to join FBI. Everybody else tried to talk me out of it, they wanted me to be something else, but Melissa encouraged me to follow my heart. You had this… passion to drive you through life, your search for Samantha, it was the only thing that mattered to you. But I never had a passion for anything. I tried to become a doctor, yet my heart just wasn't in it. I was lost. It felt like I was wasting my life, every segment of it! I found my purpose here, Mulder. Here, in this basement, among the cabinets of unexplained phenomena and lost causes. Not in a nice, fancy office somewhere upstairs, where you build your career by imputing somebody else… Do you think I didn't have a choice? I had lots of opportunities for a transfer. I've had other offers. I stayed here because I wanted to stay here, because we are making a difference. Mulder, we uncovered the alien conspiracy that wanted to enslave the whole humanity! We stopped it from happening. You couldn't save your sister, but you saved countless other innocent lives. It's not a curse Mulder. It's a gift. You are a gift."

Mulder wanted to kiss her for her warm words, but he wasn't ready to let her win just yet.

"This date…" he sighed. "It just reminded me of her, that's all. Just a bunch of memories, and now I don't know if they are even real. There are days when I wonder if Samantha even existed at all, or if I simply made her up like I made up the whole abduction scenario… I don't know what's real anymore, Scully…"

"I'm real, Mulder," Scully smiled. "We can't change the past, but we can make new memories. Our dinner reservations are real too. You don't have to celebrate, but you need to eat. Pick me up at eight, ok?"

"Ok," he told her, because there was no point arguing about it, and because if he tried there was a possibility that he would end up in tears. His first birthday without his mom… All he wanted was to stay at home, rent a dumb movie, order his favorite pizza, and re-read his sister's diary for the 69th time – he kept count on it.

And here his partner was having none of it.

That happened in the morning. Now, he was standing in front of Scully's apartment at the agreed time and she wasn't even there. After she so adamantly insisted…!

He contemplated turning around and heading back home, but he needed to pee so he unlocked the front door anyway and went inside. He turned on the light, took off his coat and threw it on the couch, next to the spot he usually sat on.

Surprised, he noticed that his spot wasn't empty. There was a note on it. He picked it up and read it, feeling both amused and irritated.

"#1. Please hang it on the coat rack," the note said.

With a sigh, Mulder picked up his coat and went to put it in the more appropriate place. He knew his sloppiness bothered Scully, but he had no idea it bothered her _that_ much.

When he reached the coat rack, he noticed another note on it.

"#2. There are some snacks for you in the fridge," it said.

Snacks? Wasn't she taking him out for a dinner?

He was getting curious now, so he obediently went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. In it, there was a big glass jar filled with… worms!

Again, a note was attached to it.

"#3. I suggest you put one in your ear. You may not be who you are."

Seriously, Scully?!

Smiling, he took the jar out, removed the lid, and fished out a yellow worm. He put it in his mouth instead of the ear, though. He preferred gummy bears, but gummy worms would do just fine.

It wasn't the only jar on the display, so he took out the next one. It was marked as "Black Oil".

He opened it, put his finger and tasted the content. Um, chocolate syrup!

The third, and the last, jar was filled with a tick yellow substance and came with another note.

"#4. Please don't touch the slime with your fingers," the note said. "You know where to find the spoons."

Slime?! Oh, he was so looking forward to February 23rd, already plotting a revenge for this.

"#5. I'm kidding, it's just honey," the spoons informed him. "And don't worry about the bee who it belonged to. It's trapped in the freezer (the closest thing to Antarctica I could find)."

He opened the freezer and really, there was a little plastic bee in it. Next to it he found a popsicle shaped as alien head. It wasn't even tofu, it was real ice-cream! Mulder opened it and stick it into his mouth, reading a note that came with it.

"#6. Since you're here, would you mind checking my sink? I think it's leaking,"

Obediently, he got down on his knees and opened the cabinet under the sink. Nothing was leaking.

"#7. Not this one," another note said. "The bathroom sink."

He rushed to the bathroom, enjoying this game more than he was willing to admit.

"#8. Don't worry, this sink is fine too. I wouldn't risk you falling through the floor," the next note said. "I just wanted you to get rid of the ghost in my tub."

Oh, Scully!

In the tub, he found an old white sheet, with two holes for eyes cut in it. He fished around it, until he dug up a new note.

"#9. Looks like he's already gone, but thank you for trying."

It made him smile. He knew what the ghost represented, the not-so-recent but still very vivid attack from Pfaster who kept haunting his partner even after she killed him. It pleased him to see that she was able to talk about him, even if only in this way.

"Since you are here, you might want to use the toilet," the note went on.

Damn, Scully, how did you know? She anticipated his needs perfectly and he was already reading the next instruction while he relieved himself.

"#10. Don't forget to put down the toilet seat," it said.

Oh, he wasn't going to forget! Not this time! He had to put the lid down too, to find the next note.

"#11. Check my bedroom lamp," it said. "I think it might be bugged."

The note under the lamp was less friendly, but hilarious.

"#12. What do you think you're doing in my bedroom, Mulder?" it said. "Go watch TV or something."

All of Scully's notes were numbered, and the one on the television, an envelope, was the thirteenth. On the back of it, it said: "#13. You were right, 13 is indeed unlucky number. As I wrote this aliens came and abducted me. I managed to take their picture, in hope that it will help you locate me in time. You will find it inside. Please hurry!"

This was getting better and better! Mulder teared the envelope open and the picture he found in it made him burst out laughing.

Aliens!

They were Lone Gunmen!

Oh, Scully!

If anybody could make him enjoy this day, it was his partner. She certainly went out of her way to make it happen and it was working, oh boy, was it working!

On the back of the picture there was an address and Mulder didn't waste any time getting there. He rushed out of the building almost as fast as he would if Scully was abducted for real. The universe seemed to have been on his side, because all the traffic lights he encountered were green and he soon parked the car in front of an old, abandoned building. He spotted Scully on the entrance, holding a flower bouquet and waving at him.

Delighted to see her, he had to stop himself from running to her and tried to appropriately walk instead. Wrong choice. Before he could reach her, two "aliens" popped out of the building and pulled her inside.

She dropped the bouquet and Mulder run to pick it up. There was a "Happy birthday" note attached to it, inside of which he found instructions on where to get the equipment. For what, he had no idea, but he was excited to find out. Scully had him completely under her spell.

He couldn't believe his eyes when he got his hands on the suit with exploding paint cells, the very same one from First Person Shooter, the one he hinted he wanted for his birthday. She remembered! She got him the testosterone rush that she very much despised, but knew that he just as much adored. Scully arranged the complete game for him, with the best possible prize – herself.

Granted, it wasn't the high technology, more of a paintball game, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. "The aliens" proved to be worthy opponents and Mulder's suit was bleeding in a few places, but he was unstoppable.

After a long and hard battle, the aliens were defeated, and with his last strength Mulder untied trapped Scully and collapsed in front of her.

"Men!" Scully shook her head in amusement, while she helped Mulder get out of the damn armor and back on his feet. He mumbled something about "best birthday ever".

"Aliens" were on their feet too, approaching them.

"I see you didn't aim for the back of their necks," Scully winked at Mulder.

"Damn!" he winced. He was sore in a few strange places. "So that's why they kept getting up!"

"Happy birthday, Mulder," the "aliens" said in unison.

"Happy birthday, Mulder," Scully joined them, kissing him on the cheek.

"Come on G-woman," Fohike whined. "Give him a proper kiss!"

"He deserved it," Byers agreed.

"Go for the kill, Scully!" Langly encouraged her as well.

Mulder felt embarrassed and he looked at the floor, wanting them to stop. The night was beyond perfect, and these idiots were ruining it by humiliating Scully with their idiotic adolescent requests.

But Scully was unfazed.

"Don't get shy on me now, partner," she teased him and he raised his head, looking at her with surprise. She always kept him guessing!

"What do you say we give these boys what they came for?" she asked with a huge smile and Mulder's heart almost stopped beating. If he didn't know better, he would swear she was flirting with him, but that wasn't even remotely possible. Was it?

"What are you suggesting?" he asked carefully.

"This," Scully answered simply, pulling his head down and pressing her lips to his, without a second of hesitation or any sign of discomfort.

"For them," she whispered under "aliens'" approving ovations. "They helped me set this all up at the last minute, and this was the only compensation they asked for."

"What about your hand on my ass?" Mulder whispered back.

"Oh, that's for Frohike," Scully chuckled. "I didn't ask why, but maybe you should."

"I most certainly never will," Mulder was mortified.

Scully giggled and moved away from him, but not much. He could still smell her perfume, and she could still smell his paint.

"All right, guys, go get the cake!" she ordered "aliens", but her gaze was still fixed on Mulder.

"I thought you were taking me to a dinner," Mulder observed.

"You didn't want a dinner," Scully shrugged.

"I was being an asshole. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. You have a right to have a bad day. But I have a right to try to fix it for you."

"You sure did, Scully. Thank you. In fact, I think this has just become my favorite date."

He was well aware of the double meaning of the word, but he wasn't about to clarify anything. Scully was just as aware and she didn't need no clarification. Their smiles, their gazes, told them everything they needed to know.

"Happy birthday, Mulder," Scully repeated once more.

"Happy Friday 13th, Scully," he smiled fondly, unable to take his eyes off her. Was she always… _glowing_ like this, or was it just the lighting of this place? When did she start to… look at him… like _that_? How come he never noticed a… _woman_ in her before?

As if she was reading his thoughts and wanted to torture him, Scully brought her lips as close as she could to his ear and whispered triumphantly. "Keep it together, Mulder. I've warned you testosterone frenzy doesn't end when the game does, haven't I?"

Now Mulder was left speechless and he could feel himself blushing like crazy while he carefully examined his shoes. Damn, he could look at those ugly old shoes forever!

Scully had him and she had him good! But Mulder was already plotting a revenge. He didn't have a single idea in mind yet, but he had months to come up with something worthy of his scientific witch of a partner.

Three grey reticulans finally returned with the cake, taking Mulder out of his misery. He gratefully turned to them, ready to blast the crap out of all those candles.


	16. Chapter 16

Things seemed to be getting normal again, and Mulder could finally relax. Scully was no longer tensing when he touched her, so he didn't need to walk on eggshells anymore.

She wasn't afraid, not even of Pfaster's ghost anymore. She started to smell fresh again, so Mulder knew she was back to having regular showers and to her usual grooming routine, whatever it entailed.

She didn't need his help with interrogations either.

Everything seemed exactly as before the Pfaster's attack.

Except that it was all irreparably different.

His mom was gone, for one. His search for Samantha was over.

His partner was in her Ed Jerse phase again.

Even worse. This time she decided to go with a much more sinister, much more dangerous son of a bitch than the tattooed lunatic could ever dream of becoming.

She took off with no one else but their worst enemy, the cigarette-smoking incarnation of evil.

She didn't even tell Mulder about it. She just left him a message about a fake family's emergency, as if he wouldn't contact her mother and offer his help with whatever was needed.

Scully wasn't a good liar. Neither was CSM. At least they were not as good as Mulder's restlessness and he figured their arrangement in no time.

Scully was going to die. It was as clear as possible. CSM lured her away from Mulder to use her as a bait and Scully, his Scully who was closer to him than ever before, went willingly. Betrayed him. Completely.

Mulder was furious. It was easier to be mad than dead afraid of never seeing her again. Even when she came back, well and unharmed.

She brought an empty disk and took Mulder to the empty offices, insisting that she kept sending him tapes (he didn't receive any) and that she saw signs of a soul in CSM's eyes (who didn't have any).

Mulder leaned on the doorway and watched her trying to explain, disputing each and every of her arguments, until she had to admit that she'd been played and used the whole time.

It didn't sit well with her.

"I'm going home," she said and tried to walk past Mulder, but he grabbed her arm, not willing to let her go that easily.

What he didn't know was that at that moment Scully fully realized the danger she'd been in and the improbability of her survival, which brought forth a panic attack.

He just saw her hyperventilate and go down on her knees, but this time he didn't try to help her. He released her, letting her fall, thinking that she was bothered by his touch and he wasn't going to put up with that again. Not after she handled a trip with CSM just fine.

So he walked away. It wasn't easy, but he did it, seeing no other option. His partner chose who to side with, and it wasn't him. He wasn't willing to forgive that.

Not so fast, at least.

He waited outside, though. From the safe distance and out of her sight, he waited to make sure she got to her car safely. He kept waiting for a long time that took her to finally turn the ignition and drive away, and long after she was completely gone.

He didn't know what for, but he waited, with nothing but the bag of sunflower seeds to keep him company.

They were colder to each other after that night. More formal. More of a business partners than friends.

Their basement office never felt more crowded.

Scully retrieved to some secret place in her mind, ignoring Mulder more than usual. She barely paid any attention to him anymore, so much so that he could he tell her that he wasn't wearing any pants or some other nonsense in the middle of a conversation and half of the time she wouldn't even notice. She would keep nodding or play with a pencil or whatever small thing was within her reach.

She didn't seem to be hurting or having problems, she just looked incredibly bored. Her Ed Jerse phase wasn't fading and she treated Mulder like annoying relative at best.

When he wanted to investigate crop circles in England, she protested and refused to go with him.

Not only did she refuse, but she said she would rather take a bath. A bath!

As far as he knew, and he did know these things, she hadn't taken a bath since before Pfaster. After being violated by a man obsessed with giving baths to his victims, it just wasn't something she could continue enjoying.

Yet, even that was better than going to England with him?

He canceled her ticket and went alone. To England. To Europe. As far away as he promised her to go on the night of her attack. If she ever needed him to.

Apparently she did.

Or worse. It made no difference to her.

It was a long and lonely trip, and Mulder found no crop circles, no paranormal activities, no FBI business. Nothing. As much as he hated to admit, Scully was right. He was just wasting his time, while his life stood still, unchanged.

But Scully's life changed in his absence. She talked to god and god spoke back to her. Something like that.

Mulder listened with amusement while she talked about her adventures, about strange circumstances that led her to an old lover, whose life she saved with balancing his chakras, when medicine failed to provide the help he needed.

Scully he knew would never give chakras a chance. Oh yeah, she changed, all right, in some more profound ways than just overcoming the unfortunate Ed Jerse phase. But she wasn't the only one.

That night Mulder's life changed as well.

Completely.

Irreversibly.

And most importantly, for the better.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note:** **This is the last chapter so I just want to take a moment to thank all of you for sharing this intense journey with me, and especially for all the reviews. Your support really meant a lot to me, because it took a lot of courage to write this. This story is basically a collection of my most intimate hurt/comfort phantasies, which for a long time I didn't even consider turning into a story. It felt too personal. It still does. It still scares me. I feel naked and exposed, which didn't happen with my previous stories. But it was so worth it!**

Mulder watched Scully as she slept peacefully on his couch. He envied her ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time, even in the middle of a stakeout or conversation. Like how she now suddenly fell asleep on him.

He was the one who just came from Europe, but she was the exhausted one? Jet lag or not, Mulder wasn't even tired.

He contemplated watching her all night, but then realized she couldn't be comfortable in that position, sitting on the couch with her legs propped on the coffee table. So he stood up and went to make a bed for her.

Trying to be quiet, Mulder searched for clean linens in the faded light of the night stand lamp. He took his time, feeling everything, from the brisk night air on his skin and the firmness of the wooden closet under his fingertips, to the fresh smell of clean cloth in his hands. Time seemed to have slowed down and everything gained unusual intensity.

Was it all that talk about fate he had with Scully, or was it just a coincidence, but he felt like he was in the right place at the right time which he couldn't remember ever feeling before.

After changing a pillow case, he couldn't resist pressing the pillow to his face, closing his eyes and just savoring the moment.

"Mulder," Scully's voice interrupted him. He opened his eyes with a barely noticeable smile. Scully was standing in the doorway shadow and he was so grateful that she was there. Her presence was enough. He didn't need anything more.

"Hi," he said gently, not moving as though not to break the magic.

"What are you doing?" Scully asked, not moving either. There was something in the air. She felt it too.

"Trying to be a good host," Mulder chuckled lightly, throwing the pillow down, on its place. "Your bed is ready."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," Scully shook her head. "I'm sorry I stayed this long. I didn't want to be alone after… But you must be exhausted from a long travel and…"

The rest of her words got lost in a deep sigh.

"After what?" Mulder slowly approached her. "What's wrong?"

"Daniel," she said to the floor. "His touch."

"Did he hurt you?" Mulder's voice instantly filled with worry.

"No," Scully shook her head, still looking at the floor. "It just reminded me of what I'll never have again. And Pfaster…" she shivered at the mention of his name. "He will always be the last one…"

"No, he won't," Mulder objected. "You just need more time. You can't rush these things, Scully."

"It's not just that," Scully wiped her eyes, almost angry in her frustration. "Even if I could, why would anybody bother with me? I'm barren and damaged, what do I have to give? Tell me honestly, Mulder, would you want to deal with… intimacy issues of a… raped woman?"

It was dark and the floor was close enough to hide her shame, but she still shivered from embarrassment of even bringing this up with the only man she could imagine bringing it up with. There wasn't anybody else she could talk to, simply because nobody else knew. And she needed to tell someone…

"If I loved her, I would," Mulder said quietly, moving so close to her that she could feel his breath and hear his heart beat – it was beating that hard. "And I do. Love. Her."

"Oh god, Mulder," Scully gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. "That isn't what I asked!"

"I know," he nodded. "But it's still my answer. I don't want to scare you and I certainly don't expect anything from you… I just wanted you to know that you have that…"

"Mulder…" she sobbed now, trying to look at him, but her eyes were too full of tears and the room was dark enough that for a moment she thought he wasn't even real. Maybe this wasn't happening at all, maybe it was all in her head. Or in a dream that she didn't want to wake from. "I want it to be you. I… do. But I… I can't make you wait…"

"You can't stop me from waiting," he chuckled through his own tears.

"Oh Mulder," Scully lowered her forehead on his chest, and he gently brushed his fingers through her hair. "You deserve so much more... A family… A complete woman…"

"You know, Scully, on my last case in Vermont I was asked if I had a significant other and… I immediately thought of you. What would a perfect woman see in me, anyway? You are the one always on my mind and there's just no room for anybody else."

"So what was your answer?" Scully wondered.

"To what?" Mulder was confused.

"To the question about significant other," she reminded him.

"Oh," he smiled, lowering his mouth to her ear to be able to whisper to her. "My answer was: _not in the wildly understood definition of that term_."

It made her chuckle, which in turn made him chuckle too. He could stand there and whisper to her forever.

"Don't ever call my partner damaged or incomplete again," he gently warned her. "Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

"Okay?" he asked again, wanting to make sure.

"Okay," she repeated.

"Promise?" he placed his hands on the sides of her head, gently lifting it to get her to look at him. Her eyes never lied, so he needed confirmation from them as well.

"I promise," Scully said seriously, through a mixture of smile and tears.

They stayed like that for a while, gazing at each other, exchanging all the little things that couldn't be put in words. Their lips kept getting closer and closer, though neither of them was sure who was making the move. It all seemed to be happening automatically and effortlessly.

Then Scully yawned, breaking the magic of the moment. It didn't matter though, since the rest of the magic was just around the corner, and they had the rest of their lives to explore it. Together.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, but Mulder wasn't offended. He burst out laughing instead.

"You really need to get some sleep," he concluded. "Would you share a bed with me?"

Scully seemed hesitant, so he quickly added: "Platonically, I mean. If it's not too much too soon for you… You know what, I'll just sleep on the couch."

"No," Scully shook her head shyly. "I… I would like to…"

She was too tired and too nervous to finish the thought, so she started to take her clothes off instead. Mulder watched her undress until she was left in nothing but her underwear. Then she took that off as well.

She stood in front of him, naked and beautiful. Mulder followed her lead and got rid of his clothes, but he kept the boxers on, just in case. He wasn't sure how much she was ready to see and he didn't want to scare her.

It was cold and they both shivered. And it didn't matter.

Slowly, Scully approached him and finished what he started. Her hands were shaking as she pulled his boxers down, just to see if she could.

To her surprise, she discovered that she wasn't afraid. It wasn't awful. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. She brushed her hand through Mulder's pubic hair, not ready to do anything more, but it was enough to cause a moan and a reaction from him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered with closed eyes and she quickly covered his mouth with her hand.

"Don't be," she whispered back. "I trust you."

She let her hand slide down his chin, his neck, his chest… Then she wrapped her arms around him in an intimate hug, skin to skin.

"I love you," she said and he returned the hug, holding her tightly, as close as possible. His erection pressed on her stomach, but it didn't bother her. If he tried now, she wouldn't stop him, but she knew he wouldn't do anything until she was completely ready.

And even though she wasn't ready, there wasn't anything wrong with that.

Mulder's body may have reacted to her touch and he couldn't do much about that, but what he did, or more precisely didn't do _with_ that was completely under his control. At that exact moment Scully realized, from the bottom of her being, that the same went for her.

What she knew in her mind all along finally reached her heart and the vail of guilt was raised from her soul. She felt it stop being impossible. The forgiveness. For what she couldn't control. For the worst, most disturbing orgasm in her life.

With a deep, loud sigh, she exorcised the monster from her soul.

Then the tears came. Flooding, violent, cleansing tears that she also couldn't and didn't want to control. She let it all out, safe in Mulder's embrace, who kept telling her that it's all right, over and over again, like he did on that terrible night of Pfaster's attack.

This time though, she believed him. With every fiber of her being, she believed him.

A day later:

Mulder woke up alone in his bed. He felt the emptiness of Scully's absence, but willing to respect her need to take time and figure out alone… whatever she needed to figure out alone.

When he arrived to the office she was already there and he kissed her good morning. In the lips. Like a lover. Or a friend. It didn't matter.

He was going to proceed with work as usual, as if nothing had changed, but Scully wanted to talk.

Because, after all, everything had changed.

"Last night," she said apologetically. "It shouldn't have happened."

Mulder could barely suppress a smile. Two steps forward, one step back. It became such a usual routine for them that he wasn't even bothered with it anymore.

"Relax, Scully," he said nonchalantly. "Nothing happened."

"Exactly," she agreed. "And that's not enough. Not for you! I know what kind of, um, tapes you watch and I would never even consider doing half of those things. I can't give you what you need."

"First of all, I don't watch that anymore."

"Since when?"

"Since Pfaster."

"Oh god, Mulder. It isn't… It can't be… Because of me?"

"Second of all, I don't need more phantasies. I need something real and nothing is more real than you."

"Mulder…"

"Third of all, when you say you are not willing to consider half of those things, does that mean you are willing to try the other half?"

"I… a… um…"

"But most of all, Scully, how do you know what's on those tapes?"

She couldn't help blushing. And laughing. And loving him. It all seemed so simple when she was with him, so natural and right. Doubts thrived in her mind only when she was alone. Mulder's presence efficiently dispersed them, one by one.

They were taking things slowly. But they were taking things. Nothing was standing between them anymore.

A week later:

"Will you be with me when I tell my mom?" Scully asked him. She didn't want to live a lie anymore. She didn't want to keep carrying the shame that wasn't hers to carry. What Pfaster did made _him_ dirty, not _her_.

Mulder agreed. How could he refuse?

It was a very painful conversation. Lots of tears.

Lots of hugs.

And lots of healing.

Skinner was next. If she ever got triggered on the job, he needed to know why. He needed to know the risks, the problems and reactions that could arise and potentially compromise her ability to follow the protocols. Informing him was the adult and responsible thing to do, no matter how difficult and awkward.

And awkward it was! Assistant director was left speechless and pale. He certainly wasn't prepared to hear such a confession. Mulder watched him carefully, ready to jump if he did or said anything that would make Scully uncomfortable. He wasn't keen on sharing this with Skinner in the first place and his protective mode was on full alert.

As it turned out, there was no reason for worry. Their boss acted in a kind and professional manner. It took him a few coughs before he managed to speak again, but then he offered all the FBI resources and any personal help if Scully ever needed anything from him.

A month later:

"Would you go to a therapy session with me?"

It wasn't something that he particularly wanted, or wanted at all, but if it was important to her he was willing to try.

Maybe they couldn't solve everything alone.

And maybe they didn't have to.

A year later:

"What did you name him?"

"William. After your father."

The End


End file.
